Domesticity
by X-FilesLover98
Summary: Basically what the title says. Domestic!B&B. . .Lots of B&B fluff. Takes place after Seaosn 6 Finale. Multi-Chapter fic. Stories have nothing to do with each other unless indicated under the name of the Chapter. In-Progress Fic, but updated every weekend with new chapters! (Spoilers: Enjoy the Disclaimers)
1. Week 1

Summary: Just a series of fan fics about our favorite duo. Set at any time that I indicate. As the title says, _lots_ of domesticity going on here. I get a vision of something domestic between B&B and I make that happen to the best of my Sophomore ability. Mostly all romantic. Starts off in Season 6 finale. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I _do not_ own Bones, the characters, or the science within the show. But these fan fics and ideas are mine, so no touchy.

Week 1

Takes place one week after Season 6 Finale

"Alright Bones. We've got chips, cheese, bread, Oreos, eggs, pickles, brownie mix, a head of lettuce, banana's, apples, tomatoes, soda, noodles and spaghetti sauce." Booth went through the items in the cart, his partner a few feet away. "Are we missing anything?"

"Booth, is it cheaper to buy Folgers? These other brands look promising but their so called 'un-caffeinated' is rather questionable with how much they want for it." Brennan said, having not been paying attention to Booth's list. She turned to him, a cylinder of Folgers in one hand, a bag of a different name brand in the other, a confused look on her face. Eyebrows scrunched.

He took a moment to look her over. She was wearing her long white trench coat with a blue scarf hanging on her shoulders under the collar. Her brown hair stood out nicely and her long bangs were now pushed to the side of her face. She wore jeans and a gray and white shirt. Again, she looked at him, expecting an answer.

"You know what," he grabbed the cylinder. "Let's just get the Folgers and we'll ask Angela what she bought, okay? I need my coffee in the mornings, too, and I refuse to drink decaf."

"But Booth, I have to drink decaf. It's not fair that only you get coffee." She said disappointedly as he tossed the cylinder into the basket.

"Bones, we can get two kinds. It's not a big deal."

"Yes, but one will cost more than the other," she explained, following him down the isle. Moving to his side she took his arm, somewhat out of habit. "I don't want you paying for two if one of them is a necessity for me."

He smiled. "We already talked about this. We'll both pay for half. Half the groceries, half the tab." He looked at her, finding her looking ahead. "Hey," brilliant blue eyes met his brown. "It's fine. I don't want you stressing over anything, okay? Especially something as simple as buying groceries." He nodded at her.

She quirked a smile and nodded back.

They made for the cash register in silence. Booth was loading the conveyer belt when Brennan exclaimed, "Oh, Booth!"

He stepped over to where she was, bent over and looking into a mini freezer. She pointed. "I didn't know they made Starbucks Coffees to be sold in stores."

He smiled. "Yeah, they're espressos. You want one?"

"Are they any good?"

"They're not as good as getting one from Starbucks itself in my opinion, but it's worth the buck ninety. Do you want one?"

"Yes please." She stepped aside as he opened the door.

"Alright, there's Coffe, Vanilla, Mocha, and Dark Chocolate. Which d'you want?"

"Mm, just plain coffee sounds good."

He grabbed one and waved it at her tauntingly, adding it to their collection of goods already set for checking out.

The cold waft of air from the fridge shook her and she pulled her coat tighter around herself. Then took Booth's arm again as they waited in line.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a ten and a five. "Half. As promised."

"It's not all going to equal thirty, Bones. There were sales." He took the money from her anyway.

Brennan shrugged. "Then just take the ten. Save the five for gas."

"I'm not taking your money for gas." He warned.

"Wh- why not?"

Because. That's not part of our deal. We go halfsies on groceries and the tab. That's it." He swiped his free arm in the air for emphasis.

"But we always take your car. The least I could do is chip in once in a while."

"Hey-hey! Look at that, we're next!" Booth said as they moved up. He smiled at her knowingly and she gave him that 'Oh you' look. But her face gave away that she was truly amused.

* * *

**Uh oh! Didn't they just get through discussing decaf? Don't worry, that'll get resolved. First fight? I think so!**

**So my plan for this – since I have, like, forty of these short stories (no seriously, forty, and some of them are long, too) – is to have them all up at one point so you can basically just choose any story at any point and read it. They're all pretty standalone domestic stories except for the ones with the same titles. For example, the next chapter will be called Week 1 Part Two, so you'd obviously know to go to Week 1 first, etc., etc.**

**Anywho! If you made it to the end of this one, thanks! I promise this is not my best work. I have so many of these wasting away on my phone, so I'm fixing them up and officially putting them on the site. I'll probably post two or three of these a day. **


	2. Week 1 Part Two

Bonjour again! Two in one day, woop woop! This one _should_ be a tad longer. The first one was only 933 words. _Yikes!_ Okay no, but seriously. This is where we deal with that whole Starbucks Coffee fiasco. To business!

Disclaimer: . . .Really. . . . .You need this here. . . . . . . ._Really._

Week 1 Part Two

Takes place one week after Season 6 Finale

Booth had Brennan unlock the door since his hands were otherwise occupied with grocery bags. She found the key in his front jacket pocket and resisted the urge to scold him about how dangerous it was to have it there. It _was_ his leather jacket, after all, and the pockets were shallow. Nevertheless, she opened the door and tossed the keys in the bowl next to it. Her partner kicked the door closed and made quickly for the kitchen.

Setting the bags on the table he muttered something about his hands being numb the entire trip up from the lobby. Brennan had carried only _one_ bag and set it gently on the counter. It became clear to Booth _why_ she'd chosen that specific one. It had her coffee drink in it.

He watched as she fumbled with the plastic wrap covering the cap, his pained hands forgotten. She got halfway through it when she looked over to him. She took a breath.

"Thirsty?" He teased.

She put the lid back on. "I find I'm getting food cravings a lot sooner than anticipated. I didn't think I'd ever find something like this so appetizing. Also, my usual routines are out of the sack."

"I'll say," Booth chuckled, moving across the kitchen to her. "You didn't even take of your jacket when you walked in. That's usually number one on the list. And it's 'out of _whack_'." He said, removing the coat from her shoulders.

She scrunched her nose in typical Brennan dissatisfaction. "That's true, isn't it? I was solely concentrated on trying the coffee first thing." She leaned against the counter, arms crossed in puzzlement.

"Well, you know, these types of things are to be expected when you're. . .expecting." He pun'd, grinning cheekily at her.

"Booth." She warned. Though his smile was contagious.

He winked before making to unbag everything.

Once vegetables and fruits were put in their proper places and snacks were in the cupboards, all that remained was the soda. Booth opened one and offered her a sip.

"No thank you. I'm more interested in drinking what I have. Besides, I don't really like Pepsi."

Booth stopped. "What? Don't like- Oh that's _got_ to change!"

"No, Booth. You can't change what I don't like!" She defended, suddenly feeling like a few of the Oreos he'd just put away. "Where did you put the cookies?"

"Oh no!" He laughed. "No cookies until you've tried the soda."

"Fine. I'll find them myself." She huffed, opening a cupboard.

"Bones, come on, just _one _little sip. You don't have to like it." He begged, holding it out to her.

"I don't think it's good for the fetus." She suggested.

"Don't give me that, you just chugged half a caffeinated coffee! You can't tell me that a little carbonation's gonna be any more harmful than that. Besides, we were just at the store discussing the fact that you needed _decaf_." He stopped himself. "And it's a _baby_, Bones. Not a fetus. That's insulting."

She looked pained for a moment. Then she thought: Compromise. I have to compromise. Meeting halfway has already shown plenty successful for us so far. If the last three weeks is any indication. A brief thought crossed her mind about the night with Vincent Nigel Murray, that night with Booth. Nearly a month ago. She'd told him about the baby a few days after she'd found out, and that was a week ago. She didn't want to mess this up so soon after diving into it. "You're right, Booth. I'm sorry, that wasn't fair." With that she put the coffee in the fridge where Parker might find it or maybe Booth maybe sometime later. She turned to him, curling a lock of hair behind her ear.

Booth sighed, setting the soda down. "No, I'm sorry. I was about to get worked up over nothing." He looked at her a moment. "But you stopped me. Actually, come to think of it, you probably just saved us from our first fight."

"Well, it wouldn't be our first fight, Booth. We've had many before." After looking at him a second longer she added, "But I know what you mean."

A minutes' silence passed and then she shrugged.

"What?" Booth asked, watching her become nervous.

"I have- well this." She said as she went up to him and hugged him.

"Brennan?" He said over her shoulder.

"Yes?"

He quirked a smile. "Do you remember what I asked you the night before I got Broadsky?"

Silence, and then, "Yes." She waited for him to say something, then realized he wanted her to. She slowly loosed her grip and slid her arms to his chest, looking at him. "You asked me if I was sure. I believe you were referring to the very recent loss of Mr. Nigel Murray."

"And?" He urged.

"You're asking me, again, if I'm sure?" He nodded. "You mean if I think we moved too fast?" Again, he nodded. "Booth of course we did. I mean," At the look he gave her she clarified. "We had sex once and I was pregnant."

"No twice," he tried to keep a straight face, looking at the ceiling as if trying to clarify for himself what he already knew. "Yeah. . .Yeah I think it was twice."

"_Anyway_," She emphasized, smiling. "Yes I think it was sudden, but it's a _baby_, Booth. In my book it was definitely not an option to not keep it. Why are you asking me this again?"

"I was just curious," He defended. He brushed her bangs off of her forehead. "I just know you but I wasn't entirely sure what you thought about, you know, _this_," he gestured between them.

"Booth, I _want_ to be with you. Even before the Broadsky situation I knew that. But with everything that happened with Hannah, and the fact that you said were angry. Of course we moved fast, Booth. I've spent my entire life going slow in relationships."

"And we took six years." He added.

"Yes, we did. So technically it wasn't even 'moving fast'. I mean I already-" She cut herself off.

He eyed her with a knowing grin on his face. "You what?"

"You know what." She looked up at him, bashful.

He laughed. "You loooooove me," he said in a gushy voice, poking her stomach. "You do. You loooooove me."

"Don't do that!" She laughed, grabbing at his hands and laughing.

He smiled at her. Unable to control it, not that he gave it much of a fight.

"You're happy." She smiled back.

"Of course I'm happy," he said, leaning in to kiss her. She didn't object, thought the urge to eat cookies was getting stronger. "You know, you've come a _long_ way since we first met."

"It's funny. Angela has said the same thing a few times before. Although she's referring to our first meeting, not mine and yours."

He smiled like a fool. It reached his eyes and that's what she loved most. "It's almost unbelievable, the ground you've covered."

"Yes, well, I am quite amazing." She said, holding her head up high. He knew she didn't mean it in any sort of snobby way. It was just her own way of agreeing with someone. It was the only way she could take a compliment.

"That you are. Now," he reached into a cupboard to his upper left and retrieved from it the pack of Oreos. "Will it be milk, or shall we eat them dry?" He held them delicately, like they were some sort of glass item; only the tips of his fingers held it up.

"Do we have milk?" She said, opening the fridge.

"I didn't put it on the list because Parker's coming this weekend, so I stalked up early. Two whole jugs." He said proudly.

"What will you need two gallons of milk for?" Brennan asked, rather appalled.

"For cereal of course! Parker's on a growth spurt and he's got a cereal kick."

She just rolled her eyes.

**I felt that this was kind of all over the place. It went from here, to here, to here and was what I can only describe as "jumpy". I'll get better, I promise. The next chapter I'm really excited for. **


	3. Of Showers and

Chapter three is a go! Alright, alright, alright! We gonna read today! This one I think is one of my best. It makes me laugh and I hope you get a chuckle. Also, I'm not sure if 'domesticity' is a word, but just go with it, Boneheads. Shh, shh. Don't say a word.

Disclaimer: I am so done, this doesn't need to be here. But they're not mine. And I cry every day because of it.

Of Showers and. . .

Takes place a few weeks after Season 6 Finale

Fifteen minutes. He'd waited fifteen minutes for her to get out. It felt like hours.

Watching TV didn't take his mind off of it. The thought of eating or drinking only made it worse. Tossing a ball in the air had proven even more faulty, pacing surely didn't help.

_God_, he had to _pee_.

Several times he'd attempted to knock on the door, but each time he go tot it his fist only froze mere centimeters from the wooden door. The sound of the running water hit his ears and he wanted more than anything to get as quickly away from there as possible. Or the kitchen, as he ended up in.

Finally, he couldn't take it.

Getting up from the couch he asserted himself over to the bathroom door, knocking calmly. God! He thought. I've gone through _so_ much tougher in Afghanistan. Suddenly I have to pee and it all goes to hell. "Hey Bones! You almost done in there?" He couldn't help the slight harshness that slithered its way into his voice.

"Booth, I have only been in here a few minutes. I promise you can take your shower soon. I won't take up all the hot water." Her voice echoed and she talked a little louder over the running water.

"Bones, I have to _go_," he said to the door. "Could you just unlock the door?"

"Wh- Booth! I have conditioner in my hair! Could you wait three more minutes?"

"Brennan, _please_, I'm beggin' you here." He held the doorknob, praying she'd do as he asked.

There was silence, then, "Fine. Just give me a minute."

"Thank you." Although he was grateful, he couldn't help but wonder if she really meant a _minute_ or the expression of a _minute_ that actually means fifteen seconds. She was so literal, sometimes. As much as he didn't mean to, he started counting.

The water shut off and there was a moment – two seconds, he counted – of nothing. The sound of the lock turning was music to his ears.

The door pulled back to reveal a dripping, towel-covered Brennan, her hair in soaked locks. "Make it quick. The conditioner can't dry like this." She said as she stepped by him.

A clear path, he thought. Only ten seconds. "Thanks." He rushed by her and wished he didn't have to waste time closing the door.

"You should've gone before I went in! Like I suggested you to do." She hollered at him as she made her way to the bedroom. Holding up her towel with one hand she opened the closet where their clothes shared equal space. "And don't tell me you 'didn't have to go then'." She pulled out a top and a pair of her favorite jeans; laid them out on the bed.

"Well it's amazing what a cup of coffee and two of your delicious fruit smoothies will do in just half an hour." He called back, breaking open a new bar of soap. "And to be fair, I _didn't_ have to go when you asked."

"That's not 'fair', Booth, that's irrational thinking. You should have told me you had to go the minute you felt it coming on. It's bad to hold it in for so long."

"No, no, no. Don't give me a lecture so early in the morning."

"She stood outside the door, leaning against the side of the frame. She groaned. "Booth, are you done yet?"

The door opened and she hoped he'd move fast. "Yes, yes." He spotted her leaning on the doorframe. "Well, well. Aren't we looking gorgeous out of the shower."

"I see your mood is back to normal." She stood up straight, expecting him to move. He didn't. "Are you going to let me pass?"

He pretended to think about it, leaning in the opening with his arms crossed. "Mmm, no."

"Booth!"

"Maybe if I had a little incentive." He rubbed his fingers together in front of her face.

Her nose scrunched. "I don't know what that means." He stayed where he was. "Seeley Booth, towel or no I will kick your ass! So either move or I will make you!"

With that he kissed her, getting the reaction he'd aimed for. It was exceedingly fun to pull and pull at her, even if it was all in play.

One hand still held tightly to the towel, but the other held a handful of the front of his shirt. Though standing on her toes wasn't necessary, for she'd inherited her grandfather's height attributes making her a few inches shorter than Booth, she found she did so.

He moved back and she moved forward, mirroring him, and he laughed. She was the one to pull away, standing normally again.

"What?"

"You stepped forward when I moved back." He snickered.

"Wh- you engaged it!" She defended her actions weakly.

"And that is what we couples call a 'Good Morning' kiss, Bones. You should do it more often."

Her head cocked to the side. "Is that tradition?"

He shook his head and kissed her again, simultaneously moving away from the door. He smiled the whole way to the kitchen.

"Foolish morning people." He heard her mutter.

**Vous aimez? **

**I'm glad I'm finally getting these off my phone. They've been stuck in NotePad limbo for over nine months. I always told myself I would get it done the coming weekend, but never got to it. Now that it's Summer, I have **_**so**_** much free time. More to come. I might do one more for today, depending on if it's a two-chapter continuation or how long it is. But definitely more tomorrow regardless!**


	4. Missed a Meal

Terribly sorry. I've been babysitting my wonderful niece since last night at around nine and will continue to babysit her until 9:30 tonight as well. I really don't mind, though. I haven't seen her in two weeks and soon the school year will occupy my time. I will usually try to have some of this up early in the morning, and try not to leave a continuation story left hanging.

Anyways, fair warning: mostly dialogue here. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: We've been through this. I'm done.

Missed a Meal

Takes place a few weeks after Season 6 Finale

Days following recent events at the Jeffersonian left things fairly quiet. The people there were still on edge after what happened to Vincent, though news had also been sent out to them as soon as Broadsky was shot and jailed.

Angela was still at home with Michael and Brennan assumed Hodgins to be there too, since he was also absent from the lab. Once in a while Cam would walk by, bustling about the place sometimes accompanied by other Jeffersonian workers, sometimes alone and seemingly to be in a hurry.

They still hadn't gotten any other cases, and no cases meant no Interns. Brennan mused that it was probably because people were too scared to murder anybody now that word had gotten out about the latest FBI catch. But she knew that somewhere out there, there was a decomposing body waiting to be examined. Nevertheless, there was always work to be done. So she spent her time reading through unsolved cases. There hadn't been very much time in the last five months or so, and she was eager to get caught up.

Though there was no chance of catching the perpetrators who'd murdered over a hundred years past, she finished and filed four folders in half the day. The remains were to remain in Limbo unless the family got word and wanted them.

By the time one rolled around her cell phone rang, and she almost jumped out of her skin as she leaned over a set of skeletal remains. Tossing the latex gloves onto the tray she reached into her pocket.

"Brennan."

"Hey Bones!"

"Booth. How are you?" Unbeknownst to her a smile appeared on her face.

"I'm fine. Can't complain." He sounded to be in a better mood than he let on. Though he'd been like that for weeks now.

"How's the FBI?" She loomed over the bones once again, moving the camera on the screen to better magnify the proffered location.

"Meh, it's good. Sweets has been up my ally all day." She heard the annoyance in his voice.

"Oh? Why?"

"Something about, y'know, our relationship and him wanting us to resume therapy. The usual." She smiled again as she imagined him fiddling with a pen or his tie while speaking.

"But that's preposterous."

"Right? That's what I told him. But he just keeps talking and talking and talking. All this psychological stuff. It's boring!"

"I agree. We did our time."

"Plus, y'know, I think it would kinda ruin things."

"Going back into therapy?"

"Yeah, I mean, things are really great right now and I don't want his nonsense ways to dig at things that aren't there, you know?"

"Right. You don't want him to take something we say, turn it around and then have us argue later on about it."

"That's exactly it. Good job, Bones."

"Well I have known him for a while now, Booth. His methods are quite repetitive." She pushed the camera away and grabbed the folder, skimming through the information for the third time.

"Right. So what're you up to?"

"Looking over a set of remains. . ." She said absently. She paused to read it a final time, just to be sure. Something didn't add up. "It appears that this victim was misdiagnosed."

"Mis- what?"

"He didn't die from a knick to the ribs, which would cause a chipping, but rather a cement hammer being swung at his chest."

"Ooh, ouch. Sounds like a bad day for construction."

"Well this happened over sixty years ago, Booth. I'm sure construction workers have been able to adjust since then." She explained, as if he were standing right in front of her.

"Mhm. Oh, speaking of adapting, how hungry are you?"

Her nose scrunched. "I'm confused, what does that have to do with adapting?"

"Nothing. I just had to say something to lead into that question."

"Oh, why?"

"Just. . .because. Now, how hungry are you?"

As if on cue, her stomach screeched and tightened. She put a hand over it, as if he could hear the dreadful noise. "Apparently very hungry."

He laughed. "What do you mean _apparently_?"

"Well, I seemed to have forgotten about eating and I think someone else besides me is rather famished."

"Oh!" He realized now. "Well when was the last time you ate?"

"She shrugged. "This morning. But-"

"Bones! That was nearly six hours ago!"

She held the phone away from her ear as he yelled. "I'm sorry. Are you angry?"

At his desk, he rubbed his eyes. "Slightly vexed, yes. Brennan, all you had was a smoothie and some bread! I thought you'd made something to take to work when I was in the shower."

"I'm sorry."

"You can't keep forgetting. It's important."

"I'm sorry." She said again, suddenly wishing she _had_ brought something.

"Stop apologizing, it's okay. We just need to think ahead of time from now on. Together."

Brennan nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her. "Okay."

"Alright. I'm heading to the car, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Bye Booth." With that she set down the phone. Carefully, but briskly, she stored the bones in their designated bin for when she returned later.

She fast-walked to her office and shrugged off her lab coat, replacing it with the red trench and headed out.

* * *

**Okay so, two things. One: I'm not a psychologist or any type of scientist (yet) so if you're an anthropologist or pathologist and something called "chipping" is indeed a real thing that is fatal, my bad. But being swung at with a hammer's gotta hurt, too, right? Two: I'm not entirely sure if not eating while pregnant is actually **_**that bad**_**, I mean of course **_**not eating**_** at all is bad, but if I had a meal and six hours later someone asked me if I was hungry, I'm normally not. So I figured, being pregnant, you're kinda dining for two (sometimes three) so I figured maybe that was different. **

**I dunno. Like I said before, just go with it. It's Fan Fiction, it's our own little world. ;D**


	5. Missed a Meal Part Two

Woot! Trying my hardest to finish Part Two before my niece wakes up!

*starts singing* "Under pressure. . ."

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, but if I had to choose, I'd want Angela.

Missed a Meal Part Two

Takes place a few weeks after Season 6 Finale

He didn't spot her right immediately when he pulled up outside, so he waited. Assuming the usual routine of when she saw him, she'd come.

Booth sighed. He was still running through the brief conversation they'd had a few minutes earlier. How could she forget to eat? Surely she hadn't been too enveloped in her work to possibly not notice the grumblings her stomach emitted. She really needed to stop the habit of getting so into her work. When she gets going, she won't stop for hours. Days, if you just let her. Someone always had to call or confront her. No one should have to be _reminded_ to eat, he thought crossly. But then he remembered; it wasn't entirely her fault.

A few minutes had passed by the time the passenger door opened and a very out-of-breath Brennan shuffled into the seat.

"Bones, why're you panting?" Booth asked, shocked.

She buckled, leaning her head against the seat and trying to catch her breath. "I-" She stopped, truly winded. "I waited out here for two minutes when I remembered I'd forgotten to tell Cam I was leaving. Possibly for the day." She laughed, somewhat amused. "I had to run to find her."

Booth looked over at her, pulling out of the Jeffersonian parking lot. "What, she wasn't in her office?"

She shook her head. "Nope. She was in Paleontology. There's a meeting about to start so I'd caught her just in time." With that she collapsed into her seat. "I had to run back again."

"Jeeze, here. Want some water?" Eyes on the road he reached for the bottle of water he told himself he'd drink today and handed it to her. She took it willingly and downed three gulps.

After she put it back in the cup holder he looked at her. "You know you didn't have to run," he smiled. "I would've waited."

"Well yes, but. . ."

"What?"

"I just-" She huffed, looking at him from an angle. "I didn't want you to be angrier than you already are."

He started. "Bones, I'm not angry."

"Well, you're angry at me."

"No, no I'm not."

"You're not?" She eyed him, confused. "But when we spoke before, you said-"

"That I was vexed, yes. And I'll admit that I think it's ridiculous that you still have to be reminded to eat, but that's a small bump in the beginning that we have to jump over. Right?" Red light. He stopped and looked at her again. "You're an adult and I'm an adult, so I trust you when you say you'll try to remember from now on."

"I understand."

They were silent for a moment as the red light became a green. After several blocks, another red light stopped them. He stole a glance her way. She looked perplexed and worried. "Hey," he reached over, taking her hand in his. "We're okay. Don't be upset."

Looking back at him, her face softened. "I don't want you to think that I'm not trying," she admitted. "Today it looked like I wasn't trying."

"I know you're trying," he kissed the back of her hand. "Okay? And you're _succeeding_, too." He winked, flashing a smile.

Without looking away from him, she smiled. "Green light, Booth."

He accelerated, his attention back on the road.

While he looked away, she studied him; their hands lying between them. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You are very sweet, Booth. Thank you."

Smiling, he kept his eyes ahead of him. She scoffed, looking out the window. "Don't start blushing."

Alas, he was pink all the way to the Diner.

* * *

**AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHH! This was too choppy! I keep using 'and' over and over. I need a few new words in my vocabulary this year. Lord, give me the strength to expand my vocabulary. And to survive the first few episodes of Season 9. **


	6. Street Lights

Just like Brennan's skeletal remains over the years, these stories are slowly but surely getting out of Limbo! We're getting there, people, we're getting there. Oh, and remember how I was bragging about how I had over forty of these stories? Well, I guess I lied. Although I _do_ have a lot – that much I was telling the truth about – I don't quite have forty. But I'm still making more as I go along. I'll have forty eventually, I promise.

It's probably more along the lines of 25-30 atm.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, I haven't made it so Booth and Brennan have told anyone about the pregnancy, just that they're together now. No one knows about future Baby Christine yet except our favorite duo. Not even Angela.

Disclaimer: I can honestly say that I do not own any Bones things. But if Hart Hanson ever wanted to join forces, I have some murder ideas to run by him.

Street Lights

Takes place a month after Season 6 Finale

"Oh, so I got to talking to Angela today," Brennan announced. They were strolling along the sidewalk a few blocks from the Diner, enjoying the night and making small talk as they put distance between all things familiar.

Brennan held onto Booth's arm, pacing herself after managing to take down a milkshake – she didn't even _like_ milkshakes – two veggie burgers and two servings of fries. She'd even stolen a bite of Booth's burger which, she'd noted as she continued to bite into it, she didn't like either. Booth just told his 'It's to be expected' joke and to not worry; it was normal. Of course she _knew_ that, but actually experiencing what she knew was altogether. . .strange. It was confusing, and she didn't like to be confused.

Booth looked at his partner. "Angela? How's she doing?"

"She said the three of them are doing fine and Michael is loving the stuffed bunny we got him. She says Hodgins tried taking it away from him when he was almost asleep but he woke up and cried and got it back." She had that look in her eye, like what she was saying held extreme value. "Apparently he is asking to see me, though I find it difficult to believe a four-week-old to be speaking with such fluency."

"Who, Hodgins?" Booth smiled as he was hit on the arm.

"Booth! No, Michael. You know, Hodgins is truly very smart. He's like me: graduated at the top of his class earned two doctorates. He's quite exceptional." She mused.

"Well, we both know you'd work with no less." He winked.

"Not true."

He scoffed, shocked at her. "What? So true! You hate working with anyone that isn't at your level."

She looked at him, eyes conveying her confusion.

He laughed. "Well look, let's see there was Agent Perotta. You wouldn't work with her because she was below you, even though she had _my_ expertise almost exactly. And then there was Dr. Philmore, a few months ago. You 'bout near paralyzed the guy head to toe from one article. And not to mention all the other little side-partners we've had here and there. Then we come to all those Squinterns. Y'know, it's been – what – three, four years since Zack left? All of the Squints are exceptional but yet-"

"Booth!" She laughed, standing in front of him and cutting him off. "That's not it at all. Like you said, I've grown in the last few years, and I can assure you I'm not like that anymore. Well-" she corrected. "Not as bad anyway, I hope."

"Joking went too far?" He guessed.

She ignored him. "It's not that I didn't _want_ to work with Agent Perotta because she wasn't at my level of expertise. I didn't want to work with her because she wasn't you. I was at first offended that you'd be accused of murder and then even more so once I heard I'd have to work the case with someone else and you being just an Advisor," Brennan smirked. "Even then I was subconscious to my affections for you. And Dr. Philmore was a mistake from the past. I should have. . ._contrited_ a lot sooner."

"Hey, I was just joking. No need to explain yourself, Bones." He reassured her, then continued their walk. He put his hands in his pockets as she freclaimed his arm, her hea don his shoulder.

"What about the Squinterns?" He asked after a minute.

"Oh," She glanced at him, then looked quickly back down. Knowing their relationship now, sometimes it was still hard to just say the exact thing that came to her mind, rather than masking it in a vague collection of a few words he doesn't understand. "Technically I'm not _required_ to pick one, but I can if I see extreme potential. The Jeffersonian has plenty of money to fund for all the Interns."

He sighed. Try as he might she still retained information from him, like a suspect in an interrogation room. "Right, but you know that's not what I mean. You know you could save the Jeffersonian buckets if you just said you wanted, for example, Wendell. Who, by the way, would be my choice because, well, he's the most normal. So, why is it you haven't chosen one?"

She huffed. Might as well, she thought, because he won't stop until it's out. "Because of Zack."

"Oh right. Zack. . ."

"He was the best, Booth," she complained to him. "I don't want anyone thinking they're as good as he was. . ._is_. . .I know it's irrational, but somehow it controls my further judgment. I can never pick."

He thought for a moment. "So tell me, then, did you love him? Y'know, not like me, but like Angela and Hodgins?"

She looked down at her feet. Why couldn't something like talking be as simple as moving one foot in front of the other? It was just left and right. Left and right. ""I suppose I wouldn't have admitted it then, but now. . .yes. I always had a certain affection for him, didn't I?"

Booth smiled and leaned his head on hers. "Yeah, that you did. I'm sorry. I know what he meant to you. You still see him though, don't you"

"Well yes, every once in a while." She grinned, remembering way-back-when. "You never particularly liked Zack, though."

"He was all right," Booth pretended, shrugging. She hit him. "No seriously, I liked him. I just. . .He was odd, okay, I'll be honest."

"How was he any more odd than I was?" She laughed.

"He just. . .didn't _know_ or _understand_ things that you and I did."

"Oh, you're talking about sexual intercourse. That's it?"

"Woah, okay, really. Those were your words. You said it not me."

"Why is it that men base their intelligence on what they know in the sexual field rather than how many years of college they took? I assume our relationship isn't based on your sex knowledge." She eyed him from her spot on his arm.

"What, no. Bones you're- you're _pregnant_." At her smile, he stopped himself." And I mean- no. Well- You don't think I'm like that, do you?"

Now she thought, stopping her walking altogether. "When Zack was around, that's how you acted. You had many girlfriends and-"

"I didn't have _many_ I had a few here and there. I had a four year old son part time back then."

"-although you were very glad to brag about time spent 'in the sack' you would also cower away when Zack asked for help, or Hodgins questioned your stories. After Zack left that attitude sort of dwindled. But with Sweets around it seems to have come back."

He just looked at her.

"I'm basing my findings simply on fact and acute observation, Booth."

"I get it," he laughed. "No need to explain to me."

"You miss Zack, but you won't admit it, though I don't know why." She shrugged.

"It's not that I miss him it's just. . .look, when he did what he did he really messed with everyone. Including you. I mean, I'm the one who had to stop you from going to Europe or wherever just so you could put distance between what happened here. Remember that?" She nodded. He pulled her back to him as they continued their walk. "He hurt the team, Bones. _My_ team. But you're right. Despite what he caused, I do miss him."

Brennan smiled at her partner. Many a time Booth hid what he felt, as people often did. Even her. Thought she still didn't know why.

Looking at her a second longer, he added, "But that's between you and me! No telling Angela or whomever."

"Why?"

"Because, I know that she has a way of getting information from you no matter how much you protest. She worms her way in," he said, moving his hand in a wiggly fasion. "Let her worm her child."

She looked at him disbelievingly.

"Just promise me, Bones. Please," A raised eyebrow on her part. "I'm asking as a personal favor."

She rolled her eyes, completely shocked by him. "Booth! That's not fair. That's you trying to maintain your cool-guy status."

"Buuuuuut?" He encouraged.

"Fine."

He grinned.

"Can we head back now? I want to go home."

"Sure Bones. Anything." He reached out his hand and she took it, though she still settled for his shoulder as a pillow. "We were starting to get on the wrong side of town anyways."

She shrugged. "You'd protect me."

"You think so?"

"Yes, don't you?"

"I kinda figured if something happened I'd come back later to make sure you were still alive but. . ."

"You wouldn't."

"I'm kidding, Bones. Yeah, I guess I'll protect you. I assume you'd need no protecting, though, what with your crazy ninja skills and all."

She rolled her eyes. "Temperance Brennan does not have 'ninja skills'. It's a mix of martial arts and judo. Along with various techniques picked up from across the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans."

Booth chuckled at this. "It's a figure of speech, Bones. Meaning you're crazy good at whatever it is you do."

"Oh, well that term is incorrect in it's usage."

He smiled and turned his face skyward. "Ah, I'm going to miss this." He recalled the last few weeks of just them and no one else, with minimal case work. Parker was there, too, and he loved that just as much.

"Miss walking?"

"No. This." He gestured at the both of them. "Just us. No murders, no files or reports to hand in. Soon we're going to be back at work with only the weekends to motivate us."

"I thought you loved your work." Brennan accused.

"No, no. I do. But don't you think this is nice?" They stopped at a light and waited for the right to walk across.

"You mean just going about life as usual, minus the murders?"

Booth rolled his eyes mentally. Hadn't he just said that? "Right. With, y'know, the perk of coming home to you every day."

She half smiled, looking down. Why was she suddenly so embarrassed?

"Now who's blushing?" He murmured to himself, thinking of their conversation a few days ago.

"Wh- I am not blushing!" Her head snapped to her full height, defending herself. She found it odd that the only thing she was focused on was their hands.

"Look at that," he put a hand to the side of her face. "Pink all over." And he kissed her, almost completely forgetting where they were.

He didn't know how long they stood there, but gathered it was passed time for them to cross the street. Their foreheads together, he grinned like an idiot, and in the circle of his arms she smiled herself. Even though they were in public, the fact that the sky was blackish blue gave her some comfort of privacy. But then she remembered the streetlights. "You're terrible." She muttered.

"And yet I live."

She laughed, breaking their kiss. "I won't hurt you."

* * *

**Woaaah, I hope ya'll liked the long fic for a change. More to come today. I promise.**


	7. Forget You, Adele!

All I will say is that I'm excited for this one, and I hope I make it better here than how it is on my phone's ever-expanding Limbo.

This one goes out to that episode in Season 4 'Wannabe in the Weeds' Where we got that little glimpse of Brennan singing. Btw, turns out both Emily Deschanel and her sister are phenomenal singers! I mean I always sort of figured since that whole Poco incident in like Season 2 or 3, but WOW! They rule. Hmm, a singing fic? I dunno, gonna have to use your imaginations, Boneo-Goers! Have I piqued your interest yet? ;D Enjoy. P.S: All fluff here.

Disclaimer: I don't. . .I don't feel comfortable with this anymore. WHY IS THIS HERE!?

Forget You, Adele!

Takes place a six weeks after Season 6 **(no dissing to Adele was put in this fic, that's sacrilege)**

Temperance Brennan could _sing_.

He wasn't just talking about a few good notes here and there, or switching the song because there was a part coming up she couldn't hit. She had a great voice, and he loved hearing it.

She would never belt anything out; try to make her voice to something it couldn't. But instead knowingly approached the part and, somehow – he didn't even know – harmonized and made it work. And anyways, she'd informed him that that was bad, straining your voice. "Why force your vocal chords to do something they can't?" She'd told him one day. "It's ludicrous."

Booth didn't care about the "rules" of singing, though. The fact that he knew she could was enough for him. She could lay down everything there is about singing on a table in front of him, everything that makes someone a good singer, but he wouldn't care for any of it. Hell, he'd shove it off the table and replace it with a stereo and a pile of CD's and pop one in after the other.

Waking up in the mornings and finding her in the kitchen making coffee for him was always something to be enjoyed. Both because she woke up before him, and she sang to herself, and sometimes had _no idea_ he was there.

The first time he discovered this was a week after Michael was born, and the team had agreed to come back together as soon as Angela's leave time was up. He'd woken up to the smell of coffee, which was unusual, because didn't he live alone now? Hannah was gone. And why were the blankets next to him disturbed and messy?

He had a vague thought about getting his gun before he remembered, almost as instantly as he opened his eyes. He walked halfway into the living room when he heard her singing. He thought he recognized the tune as Circle of Life from The Lion King. Though, who could not recognize that song? It seemed wildly out of character for her, but there she was, singing quietly, almost to herself; as if worried she'd wake him.

His mind quickly flashed to the night at the bar after they'd finished a case involving a fake record dealer and jealous singers. He remembered him and Sweets - well mostly him - getting everyone to meet at the bar. He'd spread the word that Brennan could sing Girls Just Want To Have Fun better than Cyndi Lauper. Shockingly enough, Angela claimed she'd never actually hear Brennan sing, and was curious as to whether or not the brilliant anthropologist was just bragging. Everything went great. Everyone found out that Brennan actually _could_ sing very well.

Then Booth had gotten shot. By the deceased man's creepy stalker-girl. Long story short, the night was ruined.

Now they made it a regular thing, but mostly in the car on the way to work or one of their apartments. With all the music she had on her phone, there was hardly a song he played for her twice. Unless he really liked it. There was a chord that plugged into the phone and the other end of it hooked into the stereo. She had some songs that he knew. Most of the music his partner had on her phone was 80's or 90's. None of the recently good 21st century stuff Parker had come to show him. She neglected to tell him why Hot Blooded wasn't even on there, but he let it slide. He'd do it himself soon enough.

Looking at her phone now, he scrolled through a wide section of the letter 'B' she had. With a minute until the light turned green, he figured he could take his time.

"Booth the light is going to turn soon. You should watch the road." His partner scolded him from the passenger seat. She, as usual, favored her scarf and white trench coat.

"Yeah. Hold on. Wait, you have The Chords on here?" Booth replied, one hand on the wheel, the other supporting her touch screen. "My girlfriend has 50's music on her phone? Nu-uh. How do you delete on here?"

"N- Booth! Don't delete anything!" She whined. "Besides, it's a great song. 'Sh- boom if I can take you on a paradise up above, life could be a dream, sweetheart'." She sang, shaking her shoulders to the beat in her head. Seeing him still fiddling with the phone she reached for it, but he pulled away, still examining it's contents.

"Woah, woah, woah. Easy. Hey, what's Forget You?"

"Oh! I love that one! Play it. Angela informed me that the original is by someone else, but I came across this one first."

He pressed play and set the phone in a cup holder. An upbeat piano tune met his ears and he listened happily as Brennan sang along to it.

"I see you drivin' round town with the guy I love, and I'm like 'Forget you!' I guess the change in my pocket, wasn't enough and I'm like 'Forget you and for-get him, too!' Said if I was rich-ah I'd still be with ya! Huh, well ain't that some shh. Ain't that some shh. And although there's pain in my chest, I still wish you the best, and I forget you."

Booth turned up the music, getting into the song. He drummed on the steering wheel with imaginary drumsticks. Toward the end was his favorite part. He thought she ddi exceptionally well and he turned it down so he could hear her better.

"Now baby-baby-baby, why you wanna-wanna hurt me so bad? I try to tell my Mama but she told me this is one for your dad! Why? _Why!?_ Why, baby? I love you! _I still love you!_ I see you drivin' round town with the guy I love, and I'm like 'Forget you!'. . ."

She rocked out and he loved seeing her so joyful. Relaxed, even, in her own way, as she air guitar'd to music.

"That was great, Bones! Look at you," he tapped her leg. "You shoulda been a singer. Lemme tell you, if I was a talent agent I'd hire you in a heartbeat." He poked her shoulder for emphasis.

"Ludicrous. I'm nowhere near that good. Besides, I like what I do." She shrugged, though she found his compliments to be very appreciated.

"Yeah, but come on. You've never thought of what life would be like as a star? Tons of Number One hits, flashing lights, unquestionable famousness."

She shrugged again. "I suppose that seems appealing. But I like writing books. It serves me well."

"Yeah, yeah," Booth said, pawing through her songs again. He'd gone through them enough times now to become familiar with the order they were in. "Hey, who's Adele?" The name sounded familiar, and after all this time he'd never tapped on the name.

She looked over at the screen he tilted toward her. "Oh, Angela really likes her. She took my phone a while back and put some of her songs on it. I think I was listening to this one the other day at the lab." She tapped on a song title and turned up the volume.

Piano filled the SUV and after a few seconds a voice came on.

_Close enough to start a war._

_All that I have, is on the floor._

_God only knows what we're fighting for._

_All that I say, you always say more._

_I can't keep up with your turning tables._

_Under your thumb, I can't breathe._

Booth listened intently, trying to gather why the voice sounded so familiar, now. After half the song was over, he turned to Brennan. "Bones! You gotta learn this one. It's amazing."

"Well, I know some of it, not a lot. I don't know. Her voice is okay."

"_Okay_? Her voice is _amazing_. What else did Angela put on here?" He grabbed the phone, switching from looking at it and the road.

"Booth!" She snatched it away. "Eyes on the road. You of all people should know how dangerous that is. She scrolled through the selection, skimming for more Adele. She came across one in the 'S' section and played it.

It was piano again, but it was pretty and she didn't complain.

_I heard that you settled down,_

_That you'd found a girl_

_And you're married now._

_I heard that your dreams came true,_

_Guess she gave you things. . ._

_I didn't give to you._

"Bones, Bones! This is the song I know her from. I knew she sounded familiar." He turned it up again, and Brennan looked on at him, amazed. With every song he got more and more excited. It seemed odd that he liked a female singer. She wasn't one to stereotype, because all her opinions were based on anthropological fact that made her _seem_ like she was being stereotypical. But for some reason, it seemed more okay for females to like the same _and_ opposite sex singers, but when a male likes both it seemed rare.

"Must be on the radio a lot," he mused. "She's got a great voice, right?"

Now that she listened to another song, Brennan heard the uniqueness in her voice and the way that she sang. "Her voice is quite exceptional." She smiled. "I like it."

He smiled back, looking between her and the road. "I like your voice better than anyone else's."

Her nose scrunched. "Why? She is obviously better, her tone is much smoother than mine. She's the one who's famous for her voice, not me.

Booth shook his head. "No Bones. Yours is ten times what hers is."

"I don't know where you got your math for that, but thank you."

"Here to please." He grinned.

* * *

**There, see, now I actually **_**like**_** how a chapter ends. C'est pas mal. Also, a disclaimer for the songs used. **

**Forget You (Glee version) by Gwyneth Paltrow**

**Turning Tables by Adele**

**Someone Like You by Adele**

**And no, before you ask, I don't like Glee, nor do I watch it. But my sister does. I was just listening to Turning Tables by Adele one day and came across the version that Gwyneth Paltrow does. And I love Gwyneth so I was like, "Hell yeah!" And fell in love with it. I listened to it 1,000 times while writing this. XD Au revoir! Might post another one later today. But for now, enjoy.**


	8. Impostor Child

Chapter 8! Haven't really gone _in depth_ about the pregnancy. So here's an _in depth_ one for you guys.

And to that person who gave me a review - you know who you are - I know Booth doesn't call Brennan 'Brennan', but it was an important moment and, as we've seen before, calling her something other than her nickname grabs her attention the best. Sort of like when your parent uses your middle name, you know things are serious.

And, before I forget, thank you to all of you who _have_ reviewed. I know I haven't mentioned it, but thanks! First actual thing I'm going through with, so fingers crossed! Life gets in the way, as we're all aware, and I know I said I'd try to post early in the mornings, but today was busy-stuff! So bear with me. I'll still try for two or three fics a day. Stay tuned!

Disclaimer: Wake up and smell the FanFic! It's not exactly HH writing these. If so, he's _waaaaay_ holding out on us. You feel me?

Impostor Child

Takes place six weeks after Season 6

Brennan jolted awake. The source of what had awoken her made itself known immediately. The sound was piercing and filled the apartment with an unneeded loudness. Though – she noted grumpily – obviously not loud enough to wake her partner.

She groaned.

Too lazy to lift her head, she shook her partners' arm. She lay on her stomach, which she found to be quite suddenly uncomfortable, and he lay facing her but clearly not disturbed by the noise. Or her shaking.

"Booth." She tried gently at first. Resting on her other arm she shook him harder. "Booth. It's your turn."

"Mm- wah?"

Brennan wanted more than anything to lie back down and sleep, but she knew the importance of the sound-make in the other room. By estimation, they didn't have much longer to attend to it.

She sat up more. "The baby doll. It's your turn."

"Nooooo." He groaned unhappily – sleepily – into his hands. "Can't you do it?"

"We agreed on turns," she yawned and in a swift movement had the blankets torn off him.

"Jesus!" He shot up and looked around, settling his tired, accusing eyes on her. "You're cruel."

"C'mon, I'll go with you." Brennan said. Her eyes were half closed – understandably – and she grabbed his hand, effectively pulling him off the bed and heading in the direction of the next room over. The one with the crib and the electronic baby. It still cried, much to her – _both_ of their – protesting ears.

She stopped at the entrance of the room and pushed him in, settling for crossing her arms as she watched half-asleep. The sound of complete silence seconds later was bliss, and the crying was replaced by a sucking sound. She opened her eyes to find Booth holding a plastic bottle to the fake baby's mouth.

Booth turned around, baby in his arms, and walked over to her. He smirked as he saw her leaning against the doorframe. She jumped when she felt him kiss her temple.

"Sorry," he murmured, looking down at the imposter child.

It must be two o clock in the morning, Brennan thought. She rubbed her eyes. "How long does it have to take the bottle for?"

"_It_? It's not an it, Bones, it's a baby. A _she_." Booth said defensively, always having to correct her. "And probably no longer than the last few times we've done it."

"Right, sorry."

"You know you didn't have to get up with me." He looked at her.

"You wouldn't have gotten up otherwise." She smirked.

He pointed a finger at her from under the baby's back. "That blanket trick was a cheap shot."

"Whatever, Booth." She rolled her neck.

"Well, look at that, baby Booth," Booth addressed the mechanical child. "Mama's got _tude_."

Her face twisted. "Don't do that."

"Mama's a big grumpy-head." He looked up to find her glaring at him. "Well then you hold her."

"Fine," she uncrossed her arms and held the baby close her chest, plastic bottle in hand. "But I'm tired. Don't blame me if I drop. . .her."

He chuckled. Smoothing her hair. "You won't."

She looked up at him. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Get all. . ._affectionate_? You've been doing it a lot lately."

He laughed. "What, I can't be affectionate with you? Are you not my 'Baby Mama'? My girlfriend?" He smiled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "You know, guys tend to be affectionate towards the person they love. It would be wrong to do otherwise."

Her nose scrunched. "I do not like the term 'Baby Mama'. Hodgins informed me of the meaning. It's too. . ._loose_ for what we have."

"Loose? What kind of term is that?" He laughed.

"Don't make fun, I'm running low on intelligent words to use lately."

"Mhm, excuses." At her warning glare, he stopped it there. "Well let's see, apparently I can't be affectionate," he said, emphasizing the word every time to annoy her. "Would you rather I ignore you?"

"No," she answered too quickly, but he caught it. "I would be too afraid of you looking at other women."

He stifled a very loud laugh. "Okay, _you're_ ridiculous. _And_ tired."

"Well I believe she's done, anyhow." Brennan held the baby out and upon further inspection, Booth nodded.

"Time to go back to bed." Booth grabbed the baby and placed her gently in the crib, turning to leave the door open ajar as they went back into his room. He still felt weird going through this thing. But Brennan was insistent in at least looking into the miniature program for to-be parents. It seemed strange to put something electronic the size and weight of a baby _gently_ into a bed made for a real person. A person who would be born in eight months from now.

"Booth, we'll be fine parents, don't you think?" She asked.

He steered her by her shoulders, walking behind her. "Yeah, Bones, of course."

"Well, _I_ could use the practice. I already know you're an excellent father."

"You think so?" She was bumping his tired ego, he hoped she realized.

"Yes. You have Parker, and I saw how you were with him when he was younger. And I see how you are with him now. You do an amazing job."

"Okay, one: correction, _we_ have Parker. You know that. And two: I need the practice as much as you do." He stopped them in the middle of the room to look at her. "Yeah, I have him now and he was a baby once, but that was a long time ago. And – because I know you're going to say it – I know that stuff doesn't really go away, but a routine still has to be developed once the baby is born. Every baby may do the same things, - eat, sleep, diaper change, babble – but every baby also has a different routine. Some wake up periodically throughout the night; some sleep solid past seven or eight 'o' clock. Some take naps in the middle of the day; some don't take naps at all- What?"

During his explanation, she'd started to smile. Then it turned into her small chuckles and she looked at him admiringly. "Nothing, it's just you sound like me."

Booth crossed his arms. "Oh, ha-ha."

"No, it was very-well said, Booth," She unfolded his arms. "I feel reassured now. Thank you."

"That was quick," he leaned in to kiss her, holding her closely to him.

"Well, you are a very reassuring person."

"And besides, Bones," he continued their earlier conversation. "This was optional. You could've said no to this mechanical-baby-test thing. The fact that you said yes just proves to me further how serious you are about this."

"It's important to me," she said honestly, gripping his upper arms. "It's important to both of us. Right?"

"Absolutely." He kissed her again. She smiled.

"I love you."

Inwardly, Booth felt his heart leap skyward. He didn't want to say it out loud, because they both knew it, but that was the first time she'd actually said the words. It was always implied, of course – and more than that it was obvious – but she actually _said_ the words. And he had a feeling he'd be hearing them _a lot_ more often.

"Yeah. And I guess I love you."

"You guess."

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure."

"That's pretty sure."

"So I'm told."

She smiled at him. "Can we go back to bed now?"

"You don't like kissing me?" Booth asked, feigning hurt.

"No, I'm tired. And I don't want the baby to wake up and prolong my tiredness."

"Yeah, best not to wake Jr. again."

"That, and it would be _my_ turn."

"Well, we kinda shared this one, Bones." Booth said as they got comfortable under their shared blankets. She faced him and he laid an arm over her waist, pulling her closer.

"Mhm." She already had her eyes closed, and he followed suit.

* * *

**One: I don't even know if this is an actual thing, but sometime last year (when I made this particular Fic) kids were getting these electronic babies for a grade in Health class and I laughed at the thought of Booth and Brennan going through that. **

**Two: I know I do **_**a lot**_** of dialogue, and I'm sorry. And I **_**know**_** the conversations are always choppy and like, "Okaaay, where is she going with this?" **_**But**_** I promise they do get better. I have some with hardly any dialogue and some with lots. Just bear with me.**


	9. Parker's Coming!

You'll all be please to know that I'm working on a _really_ long chapter. The first one should be close to 3,500 words, and the second chapter should be only about 1,000. So I'm only posting this small one _for now_. Don't freak out. And please read the information I post after the Fic, thanks!

Disclaimer: Parker isn't mine, Brennan and Booth aren't mine. They belong to Hart Hanson and Stephan Nathan and Kathy Reichs, blah, blah, blaahhh.

Parker's Coming!

Takes place two months after Season 6 Finale

"Booth, wake up. Parker's coming today." Brennan leaned over her partner, who lay on his stomach, sleeping. Another quick glance to the clock told her it was after eight. She huffed, shaking his bear shoulder again. "Come on, Booth."

He grumbled. His head was turned away from her, but she could tell he was waking up.

Parker was leaving for a school field trip to England. The twelve year old had been talking about it nonstop for four weeks. Every weekend they had him, whether it was at her house or Booth's, the boy raved and raved about the trip. Relaying information the adults had heard already. Only a handful of kids from the total four hundred at his Elementary school were allowed to go, and only if they were able to pay the large sum of money required.

There was flier after flier to bring home and Parker insisted that his mom and dad read them all, even Brennan. Rebecca and Booth needed to read them to discuss and pay, and Brennan was all part of they boys' plan to encourage his parents on what a good experience it would be for him to go. Booth had explained this all to her, saying that's how the mind of a twelve year old boy worked.

So, after nearly a month of hearing about it, and three weeks out of that month reading it and paying for it, the trip was finally coming together. Parker would be leaving Monday afternoon on a flight that would take hours. Saturday and Sunday were all Booth had to spend with his son. Meanwhile Rebecca had had all week.

Brennan had offered to help them pay, feeling some sort of responsibility for Parker as well, – maybe the tickets and transportation, or some spending money – but her partner had simply said no thanks. So, feeling some alone time with the two of them was needed, Brennan hung around Parker while Booth and Rebecca discussed how it was going to go.

It was Saturday, and Rebecca said she was going to bring Parker by at noon, and the apartment – _his_ apartment – was hardly in any shape for three people to be living in. If only for a few days.

"It's eight 'o' clock," she tried. Nothing. "Come _on_, Booth, or I'll rip the blankets off of you." Nothing. She huffed again. She was about to pull the blankets off, as promised, when he spoke finally.

"Calm down, woman, I'm awake. Never threaten a man with the cold."

She smiled down at him, holding herself up n an elbow. Lying on her stomach was no longer comfortable since her baby bump had begun to develop. "You promise?"

Now he moved, turning his head to her and yawning. "Yeah, sure. Cross my heart. Whatever keeps me warm." He opened his eyes to see her looking down at him. "What's a pretty lady like you doing way up there?" He flirted groggily. "Why not give some early-morning sugar to daddy?"

"Wow."

"That's all? Did my morning charm not do anything for you?"

"No," she sighed fondly. "That was effective."

He looked on at her, confused. "Then where's my sugar?"

"Probably in the cabinet where it always is. It's your apartment." She smirked knowingly.

"Okay, even I know you know what I meant." He accused.

She laughed at him. At his expectant eyebrow raise she leaned down, surprising him with a kiss to his shoulder.

"Bones-"

"Brush your teeth," she grinned. "Then I'll kiss you."

"What? Seriously, Bones?"

"Seriously Booth." Brennan mimicked, getting out of the bed. She caught her balance as she stood, remembering once again the slight bump on her abdomen. "You know," she said once she reached the bathroom door. He turned his head to look her direction. "For me being the one that's pregnant, you sure are acting needy. I think the hormones skipped me and jumped onto you."

"Oh ha-ha. Go take your shower."

She did.

* * *

**Thank you if you're doing what I asked and are reading this A/N.**

**So, about Parker's trip to England. Remember in Season 7 when he comes back after being gone for so long? Well, if you've seen interviews with HH and SN lately, the news from them for the past two years has been: Parker now lives in England. Which explains the lack of seeing him. They said that that's just how they "see it in their minds". So in the Bones Universe, Parker lives in England, with Rebecca, not in the U.S. Bummer right!? So, just in case some of you didn't know, that's that.**

**And my plan for this Fic, is that Parker goes to England on a school field trip (for at twelve he's still in Elementary school, his last year), and is accompanied by Rebecca for a Volunteer Parent Guide person. You know, where a parent gets a group of kids and they have to watch that many so it's not just **_**one teacher**_** watching thirty some-odd children. **_**Anyways**_**, so my plan while they're there is, somehow, while watching Parker and a group of little kids, she gets a really good job offer, or applies for a job or see's an opportunity there and acts on it once they get back to the U.S. I don't care how it happens, I don't envision it any further in detail than that, and I won't elaborate on it until later, but that's just what the plan is. Don't worry, I make a whole chapter of it later that takes place in Season 7, but that's what happens so I can explain Parker's absence as well. And then a few months after Christine is born he visits and then has to go back and we've all seen that episode, so yeah.**

**And, Spoiler Alert! Parker gets in touch with his family in the U.S. and I make a few Fics out of it. They're **_**really**_** sweet in my opinion, and it starts off in Season 7 and one more leads into early Season 8 stuff. Awesome! Kay, so I think that's it. I'll let you guys know in the bottom Author's Notes if I forget anything. So until then, just skim through this bolded wording at the bottom of each fic. Thank you for still reading! Kinda sucks for the people who don't/didn't read this (even though it's long and is half the fic) because all this is going to happen in the storyline later and they're gonna leave reviews like, "What? You just kind of put that there, I have no idea." So if you read this. Thank you so much!**


	10. Parker's Coming! Part Two

Hey! I hope we're all still friends here! I know it's probably no excuse, but it's been a rough few days and I really haven't had a chance to write up anything. What with school two weeks away, fixing up the house and everything that's happening in my life right now. . .Well, I've just been unable to update this story. Busy, busy, busy! But thank you if you've kept checking; I know what it's like to read a story that doesn't get updated for _weeks_, sometimes, and I strive to not make this one of those stories. And as such, I have made myself stay up _late_ to do at least two more stories.

Uhm, well, I'm still working on that 3,000-some-odd-word story. Should have that up sometime Thursday afternoon, but then only that one for tomorrow, if not just one more later that night, because I have a lot to do. Anywho! Part Two of Parker's Here!

Stay for the story's A/N at the end please! It'll clear up another aspect of this story that wasn't really explained.

Disclaimer: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Rhyming is Hard, I don't own Bones.

Parker's Coming! Part Two

Takes place two months after Season 6 Finale.

"Dad!" Parker burst into the apartment. Behind him was his mom who smiled as he ran to Booth.

"Hey Buddy!" Booth had to refrain from picking up his son, for he'd grown too old for him to lift.

Brenna came in from the living room. "Hey Parker," she greeted once she saw him.

"Hi Temperance!" The boy raced over to her as Rebecca came in and shut the door. Booth noticed for the first time the large suit case she was carrying and offered his help. He led them into the living room while he excused himself to Parker's room.

"You all ready for your trip?" Brennan asked, sitting where she'd previously been on the couch before Booth got the door. Parker took a seat close beside her.

"No way. I haven't even had dinner yet," he laughed.

Brennan just smiled as he shrugged off his jacket and grabbed the remote. Brennan turned her attention to Rebecca, who held her phone in her hand. "Hello, Rebecca."

"Hey, Temperance. Sorry, I'm just sliding my plans by Mark for this weekend," she apologized. "I still have to pack."

"It's fine."

Rebecca gave a small laugh then tucked her phone in her pocket. "You look great, by the way."

"Oh," Brennan glanced at her stomach, placed a hand over the bump, then looked back at the blond. "Thank you."

"Hormones kicking in, yet?" Rebecca asked knowingly.

Brennan sighed, but before she could speak, Booth entered the room from putting away the large, overstuffed suitcase. "Ohhh yeah. So much so that Bones here," Booth said to Parker, eyebrows raised. "Even bought us a little soda. Caffeinated.

"Oh I heard about that." Rebecca said, talking to Brennan. "Thank you, by the way. Parker's always wanting soda. No thanks to Seeley."

"It's vey unhealthy. But seeing as it's a special occasion, I feel open to it. I know there is a certain aspect of drinking that bonds a father and son," the anthropologist analyzed. "but I don't know why. Although it may have something to do with the father's vision of one day sharing an alcoholic beverage with their child."

Rebecca laughed. "That's certainly a theory."

"Hey, hey. Don't start talking alcohol around my kid." Booth interfered. "Ex-nay on the ink-dray. And Rebecca, don't encourage her. She still thinks she can stay up past ten when she has work at seven thirty every morning." Brennan rolled her eyes as he pointed a finger at her.

"Mom, can I show Dad and Temperance my passport?" Parker suddenly tore his attention from the television.

"Parkerrr," Rebecca groaned, leaning on the arm of the couch and putting a hand over her face. "Why?"

"It has my picture in it, and it's cool!" He smiled.

"Honey, I already put everything you'll need for the trip in that over crowded suit case. Everything you need for your father's is in your backpack. Change of clothes, video games, toys-" he cut her off.

"So I can't?"

"Hey, Buddy, it's okay. We'll get it out tomorrow before we go anywhere. I look forward to seeing it. That way your mom doesn't have to deal with it, okay?"

Parker nodded his understanding then leaned back into the couch next to Brennan.

Rebecca laughed then turned to Booth. "I actually wanted to go through everything with you. I know I'll be with him, but I just want to be sure of a few things."

"Right." Booth nodded. "Ah, you said he had a backpack?"

"Yes, it's in the van."

"Well we can walk and talk."

"Okay." Rebecca nodded. "Parker, I'm leaving."

"Kay, mom." Parker hopped off the couch.

"Gimme a hug. I love you. I'll see you Monday afternoon at the airport. Call me or tell your dad if you think you forgot anything, okay?"

"Alright. Love you mom."

"Love you, Sweetie." Rebecca let go of her son, ruffling his hair. "Temperance, it was nice seeing you again. You really do look great."

"Thank you." She smiled. "I'm told it gets worse."

Rebecca laughed. "Don't take that information lightly, believe me."

Brennan smiled on as her partner and Rebecca turned to leave. Once her and Booth were out the door, Parker turned back to the couch.

"So Temperance."

"So Parker." All her attention was on him.

"Is it true that babies will kick you on the inside?"

Brennan nodded at him, surprised his mind switched so fast. "Yes, that is very true."

"Can I feel your baby kick?"

Now she laughed, putting her head back on the cushion. "No, Parker. He, or she, hasn't started kicking just yet. It'll be just a few more months."

"Oh okay. Well, when he or she does, will I be able to feel it?"

"Yes. You most certainly will."

"Cool."

A few moments' silence passed as they watched the TV. Parker had picked a cartoon the anthropologist didn't recognize, but it seemed humorous enough.

"Temperance?" Parker looked over at her.

"Yes?"

"Do you want the baby to be a boy or a girl?"

"Hmm, well," her and Booth hadn't discussed it in length at all at this point, though Parker's question suddenly made her think that maybe they should. They still needed a serious start on names and right now, nothing was coming to mind. They'd only just told everyone last week about the pregnancy. Parker and Rebecca had known for nearly three weeks. She was just over two months in. Time was ticking and before they knew it, that fateful day would arrive. "I think since your father already has a boy – you – I believe he would like a girl. Although that's not to say he wouldn't be perfectly happy with another boy. Me personally. . .I suppose I would not mind having a girl." At this, she smiled to herself. Booth's little girl. . .

"I think I'd like to have a baby sister. But girls are. . ."

She finished for him. "Girly?"

Parker laughed. "Yes!"

"I think I understand."

"Hey Temperance?"

She grinned at the continued use of her first name. It seemed wrong for him to call her 'Bones' or 'Brennan'. Temperance was something she'd have to get used to, since she didn't like it all that much. "Mhm?"

"Can I have that soda now?"

"Of course."

"Yes!"

She continued to laugh as he ran into the kitchen.

* * *

**Bonjour, Boneo-Goers! Thanks for staying to the end of the story. Important info.**

**A/N: Someone (you know who you are) said that 12 isn't in Elementary school anymore, it's the 6****th**** Grade, which is Middle School. When I was writing this story, I completely forgot that some School Districts are different, especially in different States and Countries. Where I live, K-6 is Elementary school, and that was **_**completely**_** normal for me until I found out that in another town not far from mine, the school district has K-5 be Elementary school and 6-8 was Middle School, and **_**that**_** was foreign to me. I could go back and change it if you want – majority vote, I guess – but for now, like I said, it's FanFic, just go with it. You guys are awesome, STAY THAT WAY! And thank you once again for the reviews. **

**(Again, if people didn't read this A/N, that's their loss and they'll be confused.)**

**P.S.: This chapter and the one previous to it take place a week after the one I'll be posting (or **_**should**_** be posting) tomorrow. Can you guess what it will be about?**


	11. Game Changing Night

_Lots_ of fluff, I should just warn you. Fluff, romance, B&B, sweet. Just pure cotton candy. Have your toothbrush at the ready, people, cause you're gonna get a cavity once you're through with this one. Also hurt/comfort fluffiness.

Disclaimer: Swiggity swotis, I don't own this!

Game Changing Night

Takes place in The Change in the Game (Spoilers)

Booth shuddered as she let her walls come down – crumble, really. Every heave of her shoulders only increased his anger and hatred for the sniper somewhere still out there. To hell with sleep, he thought bitterly, I could kill Broadsky right now, barehanded!

Even as he thought it he tightened his grip on her. She was the only thing keeping him from ripping off his blankets, marching down to the lab and calling the team to get back to work. The son of a bitch needed to be found.

Poor Vincent. Poor, poor Vincent.

"I'm so sorry," she continued to sob, though she sounded calmer – if only slightly. "I'm so sorry."

He wasn't sure if she was saying it to God, the Universe, to him or to Vincent. Maybe all of them. He only wished she would stop. His constant murmurs of comfort and reassurance didn't do any good, she probably didn't even hear them, so caught up in the world that was her brain. She mourned for her lost Intern, saying his name with such despair it caused Booth to rethink her belief that her heart wasn't as big as the next person's, or as warm. Obviously, she wasn't heartless. There were numerous cases where she'd gotten information from making things personal, as well as cases where she _couldn't_ see anything because it was so personal. Crying was something not unfamiliar to him that came out of it for her. Or taking someone's life, which she'd done. He knew that pain.

There were times when she'd told him she didn't get people like he did. Or she could never have what he seemed to effortlessly give to people in the interrogation room. What he _did_ to get information from suspects. That she didn't and _couldn't_ have his kind of open heart. She said she could never do that. Before, she'd even said that she couldn't change; she was a scientist. But to that he called B.S.

Because that didn't make any sense.

She'd only become emotionally distant and – to be bluntly honest – _messed up_ when she had to go into Foster Care. Countless foster parents and homes left her scarred in so many ways.

She'd only picked up science and anthropology along the way. Along the lonely road after her parents left and Russ left and her hope left. Taking up every spare minute with classes and homework and research. She'd told him about the notebooks ranging in the high teens. She had boxes in storage somewhere in town of notebooks with hardly any white on the pages from her notes taken on anthropology and the many sciences she masters in. She told him that every notebook, sometimes two of them, were from the same book that she'd read. She'd taken every vocabulary word and defined it, every paragraph and summarized it, every chapter and broke it down, every question and answered it, until she could relay the knowledge right off the bat, as if she had the books right in front of her.

_Because how else do you become the best in the world?_ His bitter thoughts came once again.

He rubbed her back and arms soothingly, – or at least what he hoped was soothing for her – not really knowing what else to do but keep her from going back to the real world. Or maybe that's what she needed. He didn't know.

Was she so into the real world that she was freaking out, or did she need to come back to it because she was so far away? Were the results either way the same? Would he be right to pull her away from wherever she was?

He only shook his head sadly at those thoughts, instead tuning into her voice. She spoke softly, maybe mumbling to herself; somehow no longer the whales and moans of emotional pain she felt in her heart. Confusion and sadness the main filter of her words.

He hadn't heard what she'd said. "What Bones?"

"It's not fair," That was about the hundredth time she'd said that.

"Yeah, I know Bones. I'm sorry." He kissed the top of her head, then her forehead.

"If- if there was a God," she stammered, fighting another wave of sobs. "I mean, why put a person on this Earth- just to die?"

"We all die someday." He tried reasoning.

She moved to look at him, their faces so close he wondered if, in her state, she even noticed. "Yes, but that could have been you. It could have been any of the other Interns had it been their week. If there had been no Intern, it- it might've been Hodgins. Or me, if it was just us on the Platform." She held his gaze. "He was going for whoever picked up the phone."

He looked back at her blue eyes, made more prominent by the red he saw around them. She was still against him, but more out of physical need than his firm grip on her. There was a dim light he recognized in the swamp of unfamiliar he gazed into. There was no formation of words to describe how badly he wanted to wash it away.

He gingerly placed a hand on her cheek as she continued, brushing his thumb across the skin under her eye.

"If Vincent had so happened to be s- sick this week, Wendell or- or Arastoo might have filled in for him, then we'd never see one of them again. And Sweets," she almost let out with a sob. "Booth he _loves_ Ms. Wick. What if she had been the- the Intern of the week? There would be no telling what would. . .become of him. Booth. . ."

She fell into him again, sliding her head onto his shoulder. He kissed her hair and held her close. Rubbing her arm, her shook his head. She was unbelievable, more than she knew or could ever be modest for. He couldn't help but smile a little, just a faint twitch.

"You're in this state. . ." he paused. "Because you're affected by what _might have_ been? You realize you're doing the exact opposite of what you normally do." He let that sink in.

"I don't care, Booth." She jerked her head up suddenly. "For now, tonight, tomorrow, I'm going to say what I feel. You want to know the truth, fine! Here it is," Brennan readied herself as she sorted her distorted thoughts on what she was going to say next. "I _feel love_, Booth. I do. I- I don't ever say it. I haven't since- I haven't said it and meant it sincerely- I mean there's Angela, of course, I don't mean to say-" She shook her head and rested on his chest, dejected. She started over.

"I love Angela. And Hodgins. I love Cam and Sweets. If any of them died, I don't know what I'd do. I love you, too, Booth. I'm so pitifully, painfully in love with all of you. I know I'm bitter and cold and rude and blunt. And hurtful comments come out of my mouth all the time. But I can't help myself from correcting someone or- or stating a fact that's more obvious to me than everyone else. To me it's just common knowledge. But I love all of you. It's irrational and everything I've known for over half my life started to falter when I first met Angela. She was the _first_ person I met and eventually grew to love. She was the first since my parents left.

"And then I met Zack," at the mention of her old assistant, Brennan laid an arm over Booth's chest, and she gradually stopped her fit of tears. "And he was so smart and efficient in his work. I saw, in him, myself – or apart of myself. And I grew attached to that part, and more, even though- even though it cost me – everyone – in the end. Then Hodgins got better and became more likeable." She gave a small laugh and he rejoiced silently in a new sound coming from her that didn't make him want to throttle somebody. "So naturally I bonded with him. Angela and him got together, and I suddenly had a new respect for him, though I'm sure I never showed it.

"Then Cam came and took charge of the team. She immediately hit it off with everyone, even Angela thought I should give her a chance. Not to mention your past with her. I did, eventually, give her a chance. Now I love her. And then Sweets came along. You and me were the first to actually form a bond with him, even though we mostly fought and our relationship was solely based on therapy. He always put up with it. He still does. Then he started dating Ms. Wick and. . ." She trailed off, finding words to say next. She carefully moved her head to his shoulder more, instead of scrunched under his chin. "And then there's Caroline, whom I don't think particularly likes me much, but even so I find her amusing and therefore find I have a small affection for her."

They went silent for a while. Booth had listened to her speak, her tone gradually changing from its previous broken-heartedness to almost completely normal. He couldn't see her face, though she still sniffled and she hadn't moved much, and he gathered she must still be crying some. She thought he'd fallen asleep during her speech, but his breathing was normal and relaxed, not slow as in sleep.

Finally she broke the quiet. "I find I'm avoiding what I'd actually like to say." He silently told her to continue, though physically told her by moving the hand on her waist to her head and rubbing her side affectionately. He kissed her forehead. "I find that out of all the people I love, I love _you_ the most, Booth. But not in the way that I love Angela or Anthropology. Booth, I suppose- I just hope what happened with Hannah, and in the blizzard. . .that, well, it's not to say that I expect a response, I mean I _expect_ a response, but I know you're still angry and- just," she sighed. "I don't know. Please don't hate me for bringing up Hannah." He still hadn't said anything and she didn't know what to do. She closed her eyes against his chest and waited for him to respond.

"Bones," he said finally "Would I do any of this if I hated you?" His partner sniffed. Behind her closed eyes, she listened to his voice intently, knowing what he was talking about. "You mention Hannah. . .Fine, whatever. It's in the past. But I already told you, I'm not mad at _you_. I realize now that. . .Maybe my actions have portrayed that, but honestly," he paused, holding her tighter and emphasizing his meaning. "_Honestly_, you are the last person I hate right now."

Brennan wiped her face, removing the tears. Regardless of the fact that _she_ was the one to change the subject, her thoughts kept going back to Vincent. She sat up, removing herself from him, feeling uncomfortable. She was surprised when she felt him lean up next to her. A warm arm was placed around her again, and though she was wearing his sweatshirt still, she found the extra warmth more comforting. She didn't know why, but she stopped to think about the way his arm was over her. Personal, intimate. He definitely wouldn't put his arm around Daisy or Angela like he was now.

"Why now?" He asked. She knew what he meant.

"It's foolish, maybe because of Vincent, maybe the stress of Broadsky- I don't know," she stopped, suddenly remembering- "Booth! We need to sleep- oh _God_, why did you let me keep you up? You have less than two hours!" She hit his shoulder, more forcefully than if she were playing. She forced her head in her hands, this day, this _night_. It was all a wreck.

"Hey, hey, Bones," He held her to him. "Don't stress over it."

"That's all you have to say?" The tears were coming again. "I can't not worry about it. I could very well be the cause of your demise-"

He held her out so he could look her dead in the eye, almost nose-to-nose, cutting her off. "Stop. Right there. Don't you even. I'm not going anywhere, Bones," he grabbed her hand, covering it with his own and hold it to his chest. "After Broadsky's in jail, you'll be the first person I call."

Brennan looked down at their hands. Mixed emotions of wonder, sadness and, maybe, relief. She was getting cheered up.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, briefly; just a flicker. Before she even said anything she leaned into him, slowly. Just like their relationship. They met fifty-fifty, halfway between the two of them.

There was a spark, _the_ spark, and she was encouraged to kiss him as openly as she dared. He cleared the hair from her face, her bangs, her locks, her strings. He loved his partner so dearly, and he could only express that in the simplest of kisses at the moment. They needed to sleep.

"Booth," she pushed at him lightly. He relented, continuing and deepening the kiss. She felt sheepish at the fact that she was the one breaking it off even though she'd made the first move. "Booth- oh hell." She gave in.

Before she knew what was happening, she was on top of him. Though their hands didn't roam anywhere, she had the strongest feeling that if she let it, this could go many steps further. As much as she – they – both wanted to, she knew better. She knew he could wait, and, more than anything, she knew she could. She pulled away effectively, a finger on his lips.

"What?" He asked, true worry written in his features and in his voice. She hated the sound of it. She wanted him to know that she _did_ want this.

"You are the only person that can make me say 'um'," she said simply.

"Huh? You didn't even. . .say 'um'." He met her eyes evenly, equally. He was happy to see the distraught emotion that flooded her eyes minutes ago was now completely gone.

"I almost did," she said softly. "just now." She offered a weak smile. He placed a hand on the small of her back, the other on her cheek. "I'm scared Booth."

He caught a tear rolling down her cheek. "Broadsky?" She nodded, finally moving the finger from his mouth, curling it into a ball in her fist. "I'm _going_ to get him, Bones. You don't have to worry." He kissed her again, gently, surprised she let him at all. Somehow, it felt natural, like he did it every day and he always would. She was his best friend and he loved her, no matter how much she truly annoyed or aggravated him sometimes. Laying in his bed with her, the suggestive position they found themselves in, it felt normal.

Were they really going to do this?

Another tear escaped without her control.

"I'm right here." He flipped them over so they faced each other on their sides and he clasped her hand in his between them. He kept a hand pressed to the small of her back.

"I don't- Are you sure?" He nodded against the pillow they shared. "I mean you and me, we-"

"Are going to be fine." He finished. "There's nothing in this world that's going to shake me. I promise."

She nodded, burying her head in the center of his chest. His arms came around her again and she fell asleep to his voice, a hushed murmur in her swarm of thoughts.

"Broadsky," she said aloud. "He won't get between us. Or the Jeffersonian." She promised to him, succumbing to the warmth of him.

In two hour's time, she would wake with the light coming through the blinds just a little brighter and Booth looking down at her from his perch on his elbow. And she'd smile.

* * *

**Yeah, I know. Brennan actually said "I love you" in a few chapters past and I said it was her first time saying the actual words. Oops, my bad. I suppose this means you'll have to dock me points? I understand. There's a lot of stuff I mess up on, and will **_**continue**_** to mess up on. Even so, I still believe this is the best chapter I've written yet. More to come tomorrow. That's all for tonight. **

**If you haven't reviewed yet, please at least review for this one because I liked it so much. Just type in a simple "thumbs up" if you liked it, "awesome" if you really liked it, "aight" if it was pretty good, or "okay" if you liked it but it wasn't your favorite.**


	12. Group Night Out

I realize some, if not _most_, of these stories don't exactly coincide with the titles' name. I mostly named it that for future little Fics where Christine is there and we see B&B interacting with her and then sometimes Michael even comes.

Get ready for some Squirmy!B&B. Kinda put them in a typical 'Bones Situation' – or two – and I think I kept the stammering in character. ;) This is intended to be a really fun, maybe even funny, chapter. It's hard to write group fics for me. So many people and I forget about them, but I think this went well.

Going forward in time a little from last chapter!

Disclaimer: It would be nice to own Bones, but I don't even own a car yet!

Group Night Out

Takes place about six weeks after Season 6 Finale.

"Sweetie!" Angela waved to her friend across the bar. Around her sat Hodgins, Sweets and Cam at a tall table. All that was wising was her favorite couple and the artist jumped with joy when she saw Booth come in right behind Brennan. There was a clear path and Angela saw it. She ran to her friend and enveloped her in an eager hug. She laughed when Brennan grunted with the impact.

"Oof. Nice to see you, too, Angela." The Anthropologist made to let go but she found she was gripped tighter. She hoped she wouldn't realize her slightly extended stomach through her coat and scarf.

"Hey, I've hardly seen you in two months! I only see you closed up in your office the last few weeks I've been back, Sweetie. Hodgins has been driving me crazy, anyway, so I orchestrated this little get-together." The artist smiled at her work all coming together at last.

Behind them, there was the shouted comment of, "_I've_ been driving you crazy!?" from the entomologist himself.

The two women laughed.

Angela spotted Booth taking a seat at the table and signaling to a waiter. "Hey, big guy."

"Oh, right. Hi, Angela." They hugged and Angela pulled away, eyeing him.

"I hope you're taking good care of Bren. I left her in your hands but from now on it's me, her and Michael! You won't be seeing her for _weeks_ if I have anything to say about it."

"Wh- Angela. I can take care of myself." Brennan said as she took a seat between Sweets and Booth.

"No, 'cause he's not _my_ son as well or anything." Hodgins muttered. Angela ignored him and took her seat next to him.

"Don't mind her, if she annoys you," the entomologist continued. "She's been cooped up for _weeks_. She's just excited to've finally left the house."

"It's not good to stay inside for a long period of time. It's been proven that it can cause quite a few types of depression. From not being socially active, getting enough sunlight." Sweets chimed in, taking a swig of his beer.

"I agree." Brennan said.

"Hey, what's a guy gotta do to get one of those around here?" Booth pointed at Sweets's drink and eyed everyone else's. He didn't remember it taking that long to crack open a beer in this place, though he'd been spending nearly every day with Brennan for a handful of weeks. They didn't go out much.

"The old fashioned way, Seeley. Ask for one." Cam spoke up. "By the way. It's mice to see you both. Especially you, Seeley. I always see Dr. Brennan but I'm sure she's told you I've been in and out for a while now."

"Camille. Always a pleasure." Booth nodded her direction, finally getting his drink set in front of him.

She rolled her eyes. "So polite. Been training him have you?"

Brennan took a sip of her water, she hoped no one noticed her lack of drinking alcohol. "No. Booth doesn't need any training. He has multiple skills in many fields and categories. Especially at the dinner table." She stated for the group.

Hodgins smirked. "Ahh, so there _is_ a table at Booth's! I always imagined hunching over a countertop next to the fridge." He joked, imitating holding a bowl and eating from it.

Sweets laughed at this.

"Ay, my place has a table, alright? I'm not an animal." Booth defended.

"Yes, but we usually sit on the couch. The coffee table suits just fine. Although at _my_ place we use the table." Brennan cut in.

"Yeah, but there's no TV," Booth muttered behind his beer, addressing everyone except his partner as he took a swig.

Angela gaped, forgetting her own beer. "Still!?"

"Dr. Brennan, this _has_ to change. How do you keep up with current events?" The psychologist asked next to her.

"I read. I have a TV-"

"It's just in the kitchen."

She smacked Booth's arm. "And the _other_ one-"

"Is in the closet."

"Would you stop it!" She shoved him with no actual force but he leaned away dramatically.

"I'm just sayin'. It wouldn't hurt to put one in the living room. Now that Parker's over so often." Oops.

"Woah, woah, woah. Parker lives with you guys?" Sweets blew up, a hand very seriously splayed on the table.

"Yes, shrinky-dink." Booth said, rolling his eyes.

"Every weekend," Brennan added. "Rebecca has been a little more generous with Booth's time with him. He likes my apartment very much." The Anthropologist said proudly. "Although," she held up a finger. "he'll be leaving soon for a school trip to England and won't be back for two weeks."

"Woah! Kid in the home!" Cam said, eyebrows raised. "Isn't that a big step?"

_Oh, you have no idea,_ Booth thought. "Well Parker's always liked Bones. As far as he's concerned we were always, y'know, _dating_." He said awkwardly.

"You still call her Bones, huh?" Angela poked at the next topic, only to have it shot down by her husband.

"How long does he _think_ you two have been dating?" He asked suggestively.

"Okay, you know what, enough alright? He's my son, not some spec of 'whatever' you can put on your little microscope and study." Booth pointed his finger at the entomologist across from him. "And yes I still call her Bones, what's wrong with that?"

"Booth it was just a question," Cam said, laughing. "Sheesh, you not getting enough sleep or what?"

"This is how I always am."

"It's true."

"Thanks Bones."

"Well what? You just said it yourself."

"Oh stop. That _is_ just how he is." Hodgins leaned back in his chair. "Big bad FBI. Gotta keep up the image mojo. Ah, well. Some things never change."

"Thanks, dude." Booth said bitterly.

"Probably a good thing, too. That some things never change, I mean." Sweets said.

"We'll always have murders." Brennan piped.

"Oh, I don't even want to _think_ about murder!" Angela groaned.

"Most people don't." Cam laughed.

"Not us!"

Why?" Brenna asked.

"Why don't I want to think about murder?" the artist confirmed. Her friend nodded. "Because murders means going back to work for good and since that's two days from now that's soon."

"And she doesn't want to leave Michael." Hodgins added, laying an arm over the back of Angela's chair.

"Oh, Angela. It'll be alright." Cam said, touching Angela's arm. "If it makes you feel any better, Michelle can babysit until you can get Michael-Vincent cleared for the Jeffersonians Day Care."

"That would make things a little better, thanks Cam." Angela smiled genuinely. She took a sip of her drink and leaned back in her chair.

"Of course." The Palientologist smiled back.

"So, what's new with you, Sweets?" Brennan asked.

The psychologist back tracked, trying to follow the brilliant woman's train of thought. "Woah, why am I suddenly the topic of conversation?"

"It seemed like a logical transition. You've hardly spoken and we have all pretty much said what's new with us." The anthropologist worked out loud.

"What are you _afraid_, Sweets? Somethin' goin' on between you and Daisy?" Booth asked. Looking over his partners' shoulder, he raised his eyebrows.

"What? No, no. Of course not. Of course not. Uhm, there have been many- Okay yeah. Look, I met her parents the other week and I _totally_ messed up and Daisy said she hasn't heard a word from them since." Sweets blabbed.

"What did you do?" So interested in the result was she, and everyone else, they gave Sweets their full attention.

"Well it was very obscene," He explained, hands making movements on the table to explain his side clearly. "But let's just say the old man was making a joke, and I thought it was a dirty one, and I somehow –_ somehow_ – referenced it to me and Daisy's. . ."

The whole table repulsed, and all at once they leaned back in their chairs with gasps and 'ew's. Cam even set down her glass, half full with red wine.

"Yeah." Was all Sweets said, slouched back in his seat and taking a fitful swig of his beer.

"Sweets! I can't believe-" Booth started.

"Some first impression!" Angela commented, along with everyone else, who took turns stating how they felt.

"That's. . ._bad_." Hodgins made a face. "I mean really, _really_ bad."

"No, you see. That's one of the things you _wait_ for, Sweets, you _wait_ for it. Especially if it involves their daughter." Booth explained, pointing his beer at the doctor.

"Yeah, I know, I know. But Dr. Brennan asked, so you can all thank her!"

"Wh- I was just trying to be nice! I didn't want you to feel left out." Brennan defended.

"Yeah, let's _not_ pick on Bones, okay? I don't think you want that nice suit of yours half covered in trash." Booth leaned on the table, looking at Sweets.

Hodgins laughed and Sweets held up his hands. "Hey, I'm just sayin'!"

"Booth! I can take care of myself." Brennan turned to her best friend across the table. "Angela, would you please inform Booth of this?"

"What is that, like, a daily requirement that you say that?" Booth smirked. "It's every day with you, Bones."

"Well, I feel you fail to listen the first hundred times." She ignored him.

"No, Booth, I agree with Bren. She can take care of herself. I think Bren could take you on, one hand behind her back." Angela crossed her arms smugly.

"No, I think maybe in a fist fight, but guns is where it's at for Seeley." Cam raised her glass at Booth. "I'm on his side."

"Thank you, I guess. But I'm not only good with guns." Booth explained.

"Booth is very strong. Although I do think my better knowledge of the human structure and various martial arts skills would make me have the better advantage should we ever get in an actual physical fight." Going back to Cam's comment she added. "And I am a good shot, I do not know why that's so hard to believe."

"I think you're a good shot, Dr. Brennan." Sweets said.

Everyone at the table started.

"Stop kissing up to her, Sweets!" Booth said.

"Seriously, man. She's not your boss." Hodgins laid a hand on the psychologists shoulder.

"I am totally serious! I'm not kissing up!"

"Thank you, Sweets." Brennan said, shooting Hodgins a look.

The proud doctor straightened his suit and tie. "You're welcome."

Everyone sipped at their drinks for a moment.

"Yeah, besides," Angela set down her drink. "If there's any to be done to Bren, anyway, it should be Booth who does it." Angela smirked, holding her beer and watching as her best friend squirmed.

"If you're hoping I'll kiss him in front of all of you, you're wrong." Brennan met the artists' cool eyes across the table, and leaned across the table at her.

Angela shot her a snobby 'Well fine!' look. "Total buzz kill, Sweetie."

"Well, I might." Booth said.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Then I'm moving away from you."

"He come on like this a lot?" Cam asked.

"Not usually," Brennan shook her head. "Everyone coming together again must be bumping his ego, and nerve. I didn't even brush my teeth before we left, so it would be his loss." She shrugged and sipped her water.

"C'mon, Bren. Just _one_ kiss. For me." Angela smiled.

"Are you feeling puckish? The last time someone asked me to kiss Booth, they said they were feeling puckish."

"Well _that_ sounds like a story to tell me sometime." Angela said, feigning hurt. "But seriously, Sweetie." She motioned her head toward Booth.

Her face scrunched. "No. I never asked you and Hodgins to kiss in front of me. Frankly I find it strange that you would even ask. Why would it appeal to you?"

"Not enough angsty-drama's at the house, Hodgins?" Booth asked, chin on his hand.

The entomologist raised his hands. "I have no idea, I'm not apart of this." He shook his head.

"Am I the only one feeling awkward about this?" Brennan asked the group. She wasn't embarrassed or blushing or anything, but she _did_ find it weird that people liked to _watch_ others kiss. Puckish or no.

"Uhh, I feel awkward," Sweets raised his hand. "Although I thin Angela is still grasping the truth of your engagement into your new relationship. Being that it's been so long since she's last seen you." He analyzed.

Brennan looked back to Angela. "Would you prefer another hug?"

"Oh that is _so_ not fair, Brennan."

"Okay, now I feel awkward." Cam raised her hand.

The anthropologist sighed. "Are all female friends like this, or just Angela?"

"Not all of them, but thank God you were blessed with me, Honey." Angela grinned.

Booth put his head down on the table, groaning.

"That's attractive." Brennan commented, putting a hand on his back.

"Well, you won't kiss me in front of our friends, but you'll gladly make a sarcastic remark about my looks." Booth complained jokingly.

"No- no. I was merely commenting on the way you slouched to the table. It had nothing to do with your facial or physical appearance."

"_Merely_?"

"Yes. It's a word."

"Uuuh oh. I think we're witnessing the beginnings of love, here." Hodgins announced, getting to the edge of his seat.

"Honey, I think we're _way_ past love here." Angela looked at him, then back to her friend.

Cam laughed. "Duck and cover."

"Why? Is there a food fight?" Brennan looked around, confused.

Everyone laughed again.

"Glad you consider us friends though, Agent Booth." Sweets said.

Booth and Brennan looked at him. "Well yeah. I mean you have to admit, it's some word for all of us, but you know." Booth shrugged.

"Aaand he's back to macho-man." Cam said, swallowing a gulp of wine. They all laughed except for Booth.

Brennan leaned against her partner, their chairs considerably close. "Booth is very macho. If you want to go by the definition of that term."

"And you're all about definitions, Sweetie." Angela patted her friends' hand on the table, grinning.

"I'm all about science, and the study of humans. But yes, definitions of modern pop-culture references are what I am about." Brennan sat up straighter, feeling 'cool'.

Angela and Hodgins exchanged glances, knowing that what she said was becoming just a little truer each day.

* * *

**Well I **_**was**_** going to do this chapter and go work on the backyard, but it's thunder and lightning outside! So looks like ya'll will get another chapter today. C'est bon?**

**Part Two coming at you in a little while.**


	13. Group Night Out Part Two

Still chillin' at the bar, here, people. Hope you liked the last chapter enough to continue with Part Two. Oui? Awesome!

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my dignity. No, wait, That's in the snack isle at Thunderbird. Brb.

Group Night Out Part Two

Takes place about six weeks after Season 6 Finale

"So, can I ask you something?" Angela addressed the two love birds practically in the same seat. Not that they were actually _doing_ anything, so professional were they. But the artist was _all_ about reading people and reading between the lines. She knew they were at least holding hands under the table.

Under the table, Booth unconsciously smoothed his thumb over his partners' knuckles. "Yeah, I suppose. Unless it involves secret information further regarding my son, then no." He smiled with fake sweetness, knowing her ways.

"I think Booth meant what he said about Sweets in the trash earlier." Brennan laughed, turning her attention from where it'd been on Cam seconds ago. "I believe the same would go for anyone here."

"No, it's not that. I rather like Sweets' suit." Angela said. Across the table, the psychologist sat up a little straighter. "It's just, you two seem to be doing well, am I wrong?"

"Angela, obviously they're doing fine. You saw them when they walked in." Cam scolded.

"Yeah. I know, I know, but. . ."

"Angie, what's up?" Hodgins turned his attention back to the table after signaling for another beer.

"I'm just so happy, for both of you. All of you. _Us_. I mean," she faced the duo. "when you walked in earlier I just- I knew it was real. That what I heard had happened, what I saw at the hospital the night Michael was born, and you all came in my room," she laughed at the memory, how embarrassed she'd been to be in the state she was with all her friends there. "You just have absolutely no idea how amazing this is. For all of us. I mean, I feel like our group has gotten bigger when it holds just as many people as it did before." She shook her head. "I dunno. Maybe it's hormones. Although I guess I really can't blame it on _that_ after a month and a half."

The group laughed with her, and she continued.

"I just hope you two, all of you, are as happy as I am. I mean not everything is always going to be easy, but it doesn't mean we still can't be incredibly happy. Sweets, what you have with Daisy, minus this little bump in the road with her parents, that's great. What you have is really wonderful." The table laughed. "And Cam, I hope to be seeing your _lovely_ doctor friend soon." Angela winked at her. "I just love this. All of our friends, what we all have, what we all _share_. I mean we deal with so much in our jobs. Although things have changed, although they may still in the future, this is complete bliss. And I couldn't be happier. For you," she looked at Sweets, then Cam. "For us, my love," She held her husbands gaze and took his hand. "Or for you. Whatever you two have going on over there." She eyed her best friend leaned against her partner.

"To love, happiness and bliss." Hodgins held up his new drink.

"Love, happiness and bliss." Everyone agreed around the table, clinking their glasses together between them.

Brennan and Booth looked on at Angela. "Thanks, Ange." Booth said honestly, holding his partner around the waist. They both raised their glasses to her and she offered hes gladly.

"Sorry. Everyone was having a good time and I had to ruin it by thinking." She rolled her eyes at herself, getting comfortable under the arm of Hodgins.

Everyone objected. "No!"

"No way, Angela!" Sweets said.

"Absolutely not, Angie." Hodgins laughed.

"Well, tough to beat _that_ little speech." Cam said.

"And hey, there's nothing to sort out between Daisy's parents and me, by the way." Sweets defended.

Everyone laughed and shook their heads. "Oh, please." Was pretty much what they all said.

"What? There's not! I have it under control."

"And yet there's nothing to sort out," Booth muttered. "You just keep tellin' yourself that, kid."

"Angela?" Brennan said.

"Yeah, Sweetie?"

"Thank you. I promise," she looked up at Booth with a world of affection in her eyes. "We are happy."

"Damn," Cam said. "People got the love bug."

"Getting' a little mushy over here, don't you think? Ow!" A certain cocky entomologist was suddenly elbowed in the ribs.

Angela put her elbow back on the table. "Don't mind him, his heart was torn out when his son denied the big stuffed bug his scientist father bought him. Ever since Mr. Hodgins over here has been bitter."

Booth pried. "Bitter like. . .?"

"Jack Frost, Honey." The artist said.

"Ooh, that's not good, see, that's not good." Sweets said. Everyone knew he'd had experience with that.

"Couch time?" Cam laughed, ignoring the look the entomologist gave her. He looked as though the very thought put in front of his wife was dangerous.

"Nope. He pays for it. Diaper Duty."

"Excellent."

"I agree with Cam." Brennan laughed. "Although it may not be right, I believe diaper changes will provide an excellent use of punishment towards Booth, should he ever step out of line or make me mad. Of course a father is entitled to change the child, but _all_ the time must be quite. . .quite terrible. . ." As she spoke, she'd grabbed the attention of Angela once again, along with Cam, Sweets and Hodgins. They were all looking at her, different expressions on their faces, but she could tell they were shocked.

Angela's eyes were wide. A confused glance to her partner didn't resolve anything. He had his elbows on the table, but his hands were covering his face completely.

"Bones-" he said, muffled against his hands, but he was interrupted.

"Sweetie." Brennan looked to face Angela. "Could you stand up for a moment." It wasn't a question.

"I don't- is this you feeling puckish again, or- Oh." She cut herself off as she'd realized what she'd done.

"Yeah, 'oh', Bones. You kind of just-"

"I'm sorry."

"-blew over that without thinking."

"I'm sorry." She gave him the most apologetic look he'd ever seen from her in his life.

Cam and Angela didn't take their eyes off the two, but they leaned closer together to talk. Eyes still wide, Angela spoke first.

"Do you think-"

"She didn't drink any wine." Cam said, clearly shocked, but her eyes were analyzing the evidence.

"I see that now. Or beer."

"I know."

"That's definitely something."

"You didn't notice when she-"

"No. And I hugged her, too."

"Dr. Brennan, wine?" The anthropologist took her attention away from where she'd previously been having a hushed talk with her partner, using his hands as a small wall. She shook her head the tiniest bit.

Cam leaned back. "She didn't take the wine."

"I saw that." Angela whispered back. "Her and Booth-"

"_Lots_ of sexual tension." Cam confirmed.

"Lots and _lots_ of sexual tension."

"Newfound couples. . ."

"_Very_ sexually active."

"It wouldn't be unheard of for Booth, that's for sure."

"It's very possible-"

"Oh yeah."

"A while ago, she asked me about decaf coffee."

"Brennan?"

"Yup."

"Was she. . .?"

"She was very vague."

"That's-"

"She doesn't _drink_ decaf."

"Unless she's-"

"Oh I _know_ she's-"

"_But_-"

"They haven't said anything."

"No they have not."

The two women sat back up in their chairs. Cam cleared her throat professionally, as if her whispered talk with Angela hadn't just happened and set down her wine glass. Angela still waited for her answer. Next to her, her husband and Sweets made their own observations.

Nervous and uncomfortable, Brennan made a move to speak to everyone. "Would. . .would you believe me if I said I was quitting." She jerked her head in the direction of Booth's drink.

"Yes," Angela said, shocking the whole group. "If you said it was for nine months."

The last two words sent goose bumps up Booth's spine. Everyone looked at the artist, including the anthropologist sat directly across from her. Their eyes were locked and Angela seemed to be challenging Brennan to deny all the evidence she'd just gathered with Cam. Including the show of a reaction the brilliant scientist was putting on for everyone now.

"I-" Brennan stammered. She looked to Booth for help, but currently he was avoiding her gaze.

Suddenly, and to the further silence and confusion of the group, Brennan smiled. It was full-blown and it reached her eyes. She turned to Booth quickly, catching his attention and gripping his arm. "I think we should tell them."

"What? Can't this go up for discussion?" Booth whispered, though their audience was perfectly able to hear them. "Besides I think they _already know_."

"I don't care. We already told Parker and he's excited. I want them to be excited, too."

"Oh my God." Angela leaned over the table more, getting a better look at the two, the way they looked at each other.

"What, Ange?" Hodgins put a hand on her arm.

"Honey, look at her eyes."

"What? I'm not-"

"Her eyes, her face. Cam, look at her smile."

"Damn people got the love bug, I told you." Cam said again, taking a much-needed swig from her wine glass. "Dr. Brennan, Seeley. Helloooooo?" It was futile, but she waved a hand at them.

"Ah, uhm," Booth tore his eyes away from his partner, and their hands laced on the table top. "There's something Bones and I would like to confirm. We, ah-"

"Yeah, I'll say!" Hodgins said.

"Honey, honey, shh. I need to hear this for myself." Angela swiped her hand at him, continuing to move her eyes from Brennan to Booth.

Booth took a breath. He was taking too long. At the same time, they both said what was being burnt into their minds.

"Brennan's pregnant." "I'm pregnant."

The table erupted.

* * *

"Brennan, you _have_ to call me tomorrow!" Angela hollered behind the duo as all six of them exited the Founding Fathers. Hodgins was next to her and Cam and Sweets followed. "Twice. In fact, just call me before you go to bed tonight." They all made a circle on the sidewalk and Angela couldn't help another hug that escaped her. As she enveloped her friend for the tenth time that night, she actually felt Brennan relax and return the gesture warmly. "I can't wait 'til the baby starts kicking!"

"You and me both. I promise you'll be the first to know, Ange." The anthropologist said honestly.

"Ehem." Booth cleared his throat purposefully.

"She pulled away from Angela to look at him, apology in her eyes. "Sorry. How about second? It appears first has been filled out long before it was even on the metaphorical board."

Cam laughed. "I'm sure second is fine as long as _I'm_ not last. I know I'm the boss but I can be professional." She raised her eyes at the couple.

"Oh, no promises." Booth joked.

Brennan played along. "I think it will go Dad, Caroline, Sweets, you and then Hodgins."

"Oh nice. I'm last." Hodgins said sarcastically.

"Hey, where does my kid come into this?" Booth asked.

"We'll figure it out, Booth." She ignored him.

"I think you guys will make the list as you tell people. Or, in another case, as _Angela_ tells people." Sweets cut in smartly, smirking behind his suit.

"I do not gossip." She defended herself.

Everyone made their own comments on that one.

"Alright, traitors."

"Well, I think it's time I head on home." Cam sighed, checking her watch. "It's the big one-o. Gotta see if Michelle actually made dinner for herself."

"Yeah, I suppose Daisy is waiting for me at home right now." Booth and Hodgins exchanged disgusted glances. Angela, Cam and Brennan did the same. "What? Oh come on, I didn't mean it like that!"

"Suuure you didn't, Sweets." Cam said, mouthing a 'Wow' to the others. "Let's not keep her waited, hm?"

"Oh now you're insulting me."

"Come on." The paleontologist droned. "Dr. Brennan, Seeley, congratulations once again." Hugs and hand shakes were given, then the two were off.

Hodgins sighed. "Well, Angela didn't really leave any room to speak, so congratulations.."

"Oh, please. I don't know how I live with him. We're _both_ happy for you."

"Sure Ange." Booth said.

"Okay, you come here." Angela reached out and hugged him.

"Aren't you the hugger." Brennan commented to her friend. She ignored the look she received and embraced the entomologist instead. "Jack."

"Congratulations, Dr. Brennan." He smiled.

"Thank you."

"I think it's time we call it a night, Angie."

"You're probably right. Now, I'm going to go home, cuddle Michael if he isn't already asleep, and watch some late night television with my man. And what're you going to do, Bren?"

". . .Call before I go to bed?"

Angela smirked. "Good girl."

"Hodgins laughed, pulling on Angela's arm. "You guys have a good night."

Brennan smiled. "Good night, Hodgins, night Angela."

"Bye, Sweetie." The artist blew a kiss at the duo. The couple bickered until they turned the corner, leaving Brennan and Booth.

He sighed. "Well, that didn't go how I expected." He reached in his pocket for his keys. He pulled them out, but suddenly they weren't in his grasp anymore.

Brennan shook them in her hands. "You had three beers in there, meanwhile I haven't even had a sip." She said. "I'm driving." Without another day, she turned towards the direction of the SUV.

"Aww, Bones, comes on. I brought the SUV. If you drive it'll look like-"

"Like you're metaphorically whipped?" she scoffed. "Please."

* * *

**Aaawwww. Wasn't Angela's speech sweet? Me gusta. C'est pas mal, non? **

**My favorite part about this chapter was the fast whispering between Cam and Angela. XD**


	14. Blackout in the Blizzard

Oh my gosh, you guys are awesome. The reviews are just- *sigh* you are just amazing. The last few chapters were really a big hit. I _loved_ logging back in after being gone all day and seeing the awesome reviews you left. Honestly, I would continue doing this with or without reviews, but the feeling I get when I see them is just so. . .how would Angela say it, fabulousticulous! You all deserve another chapter! Granted it's _short_, but it's fluff and all B&B.

To the person who asked what A/N means, it's just a shorter way of saying Author's Note. Same diff. Also, heads up, there will be another Group!Fic with the gang and an Intern or two coming up! It's not going to be a two-parter, but it's kinda long and just laughs and fun for everyone.

Anyways, you guys rule, keep it chill. We've only got just over twenty days until the premiere! Try not to lose your heads, Boneo-Goers!

For this chapter, we must go back in time. . .months before The Whole in the Heart and The Change in the Game had our jaws dropping. . . . .

Disclaimer: Look up to the skies! Is it a bird, is it a plane? No! It's the contract for Bones signed by Hart Hanson!

Blackout in the Blizzard

Takes place after fade-to-black in 6x16, The Blackout in the Blizzard. (Afterstory)

He cleared the table while she shrugged on her coat and scarf. She stopped along the way to eat leftover popcorn from the bowls. He put the beer bottles next to the garbage, a reminder to later recycle them at the market. There was a pause as the two of them stood there in the kitchen, Booth leaning on the counter, Brennan holding her coat around her.

They'd actually set dates for when they'd be together; for when they _wanted_ to be together. They both wanted this relationship. Possibilities ran through her head.

What his words meant to her – as she'd read through the metaphorical lines – was that he wanted to be with her and that he would, some day. Some day _soon_. And until that day came, he – neither of them – would be dating or seeing anyone else. That was _big_. She still couldn't believe it. It was like they were already in the relationship; they'd already dedicated themselves to the other. It meant more than she could comprehend or even put into words at the moment.

"Ah, so I'd better be going. I have to get up early tomorrow for documentation." Brennan broke the silence, stepping around the proverbial elephant in the room.

"Right, right. I'm sure Wendell will enjoy a nice shower when he gets home, if the power comes back on. Did you see him earlier?" It was clear they were both avoiding everything they'd previously discussed, but neither felt the (unwanted) need to point it out.

"I did. He was very," she laughed. "very blue. I suppose that had something to do with the dye they tried to use first."

"Yeah. Booth looked down., suddenly finding his shoes very interesting.

Brennan sighed, closing her eyes to calm herself. She knew she'd have to bring up what they avoided first, he didn't look like he wanted to. "I, uhm, I mean what I said, Booth." She opened her eyes, locking onto his perfectly. She cleared her throat. "After we burned the papers. Everything." That sounded, for lack of a better word, _lame_. Even to her. "Does that make any sense?"

He smiled at her; she wished he'd stop. The way he looked at her, combined with the smile, it struck a light in her that made her feel good, _warm_, inside. Made her feel, dare she pinpoint it as such, loved.

"Yeah, it made sense, Bones."

She laughed, holding up her cell phone and shaking it at him. "If you need me, Booth." Walking past him she brushed his arm.

I'll always need you. Hadn't he said that before? Something along those lines, right? The words sounded so familiar, had they ever really come out of his mouth? Surely that couldn't have been his exact wording. Wait, he didn't even say goodbye yet. Not properly.

"Hey Bones, wait," he caught her just as she had her hand on the door.

Brennan turned, confused. "Yes?"

"I, uh, you just leavin' like that? I mean," Great, now he made a fool of himself. What do you want, Seeley!?

She looked at him a moment longer, gathering what he could possibly be talking about. Yes she was leaving, of course she was, she didn't live here. Then it clicked, like the last piece of a puzzle. "Oh." Was all she said. She felt awkward, but she didn't know why.

She walked the short steps to shorten the distance between them, and without properly thinking put her arms around him. One over his shoulder, the other over his arm. It took him just a second to respond, returning the warm hug.

Brennan relaxed, resting her head on his shoulder as he engulfed her in his arms. He lightened the moment with a comment.

"See how fast you got that?"

She breathed a laugh over his shoulder, shaking her head.

"I'm serious, even through rambling-"

"I am quite intelligent, you seem to forget." She interrupted, pulling away and looking at him with an accusing eye. "And I have learned to adapt." Then, defying all her logic and going against the voice in her head – which was, understandably, telling her to be getting home at this late hour – she kissed his cheek. Softly but with meaning. She decided to go with it and act like it was purposeful. "So I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Booth saw right through her, playing along. "Yeah, yeah. We'll grab lunch at the Diner."

"Alright then." With that she grabbed the knob and was out the door, leaving her partner with a river of thoughts.

* * *

**I realize that most of these so far are all in Season 6 or **_**take place**_** after Season 6, and I promise I **_**do**_** go beyond that. Hah, I actually didn't realize I'd had so many ideas for the five months in between Season 6 and Season 7. But like I said, I have an idea and I just write it out. **


	15. Grapes, Grapes, Grapes!

I knoooooow. I'm sorry, you don't have to say it. It's been a few days, **but I warned ya'll**! Thanks for staying with the story. Just been a busy, busy bee, lately. Lots of stuff going on, but I'm _working on it_, people! Nothing but fluff. As always, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. *puts on sunglasses in a funky way* Deal with it.

Grapes, Grapes, Grapes!

Takes place seven weeks after Season 6 Finale

"Wh- Booth!" Brennan leaned back on the picnic blanket, away from the person who held a handful of grapes in his hand and dodging the one that flew past her arm. "I don't want to play this game! I will go sit on the bench."

Everyone laughed. Wendell slugged Booth on the arm and grabbed a handful from the large bowl for himself.

They were all on the large blanket. Over time they'd all migrated around the three large bowls of grapes, taking turns throwing them across objects and people in an effort to make it in their opponents' mouth, or to just hit them. Laughs, words of mock anger and fighting challenges ensued as some failed or succeeded to catch the small fruit.

"Oh Sweetie," Angela smiled, laughing at the pair. "he's just having fun."

A day at the park was just what everyone needed. Well, what Angela thought everyone needed. Work had started catching up with them and it seemed everyone needed a break.

Fisher hadn't made it, claiming to had previously made plans. Clark was. . .Clark and assumed his usual professionalism and politely declined Angela's offer of the outing. Angela was most sad to hear Arastoo was unable to come; the Intern had a friend in his class that he was doing a paper with. Or something like that. All Angela heard was that he wasn't coming. The only two of the Squints that were able to go were Daisy and Wendell.

Daisy had come with Sweets, naturally, and everyone already there was unable to contain their laughter when she came riding in on his back, flailing two bags of chips in one hand and holding onto his shoulder with the other. The poor psychologist-turned-pack mule had been carrying a jar of dip to go with the chips, making it harder for him to grab hold of his girlfriend. The pair had looked ridiculous.

Hodgins, having been taken captive by Angela's idea from the start, had been the one to suggest Wendell to come, and together they'd hauled the coolers filled with soda's and sandwich supplies.

Everyone sat around the three large bowls of grapes, which Brennan had insisted she buy, along with water for herself. They all raved and enjoyed the shade as the heat of the summer day reached its peak.

Wendell sat sandwiched between Hodgins and Daisy. Angela was comfortable seated between her husband and Booth, who still held a handful of grapes over his partners' face next to him. Brennan, although lying down at the moment, sat next to Cam, who sat next to Sweets.

"Alright, alright," Booth stood up, clearly out to make a challenge. "Who wants to bet I can catch one right here." He pointed at his mouth.

"Oh, oh! Agent Booth!" Daisy jumped to her knees and grabbed at the bowl of grapes nearest to her and Sweets. "Ready?"

Booth took a serious stance in preparation for the throw. "Ready."

She threw one. All eyes were on the grape that landed perfectly in the agents' mouth. He threw up his hands as claps went around. He held up his finger. "One more."

Daisy threw another, and another; he caught them both.

"A cheater!" Hodgins pointed, pelting the Intern with three purple grapes.

"Very impressive, Agent Booth," A certain Psychologist stood up, shooing away the agent. "But I think it's my turn."

Booth didn't sit down, but stepped slightly to the side, arms crossed in disbelief at the kid who challenged him.

Cam grabbed some this time. "Alrighty Sweets. You ready?"

"Ooh, Dr. Soroyan!" Wendell yelped.

"Get him, Cam." Angela laughed.

Sweets threw Booth a look. "I'm ready."

A grape was launched, and caught, although slightly less gracefully than Booth's.

"Ohhh!" The entomologist yelled, high-fiving Sweets as he walked by.

"Yeah, yeah. That was only one," Booth commented, assuming his stance once more.

"Looks like someone's taking their cocky belt buckle too seriously." Angela muttered sarcastically, loud enough for everyone to hear. Booth took a grape and tossed it at the back of her head. Multiple were thrown back in retaliation, defending their friend.

Brennan laughed from where she sat, enjoying the spectacle of everyone. She took a large gulp from her water and returned the random wink her partner gave her.

"Well is anyone going to throw any?" Booth asked the group, clearly not satisfied that there were no takers.

"I'll cover you, Booth." Wendell said, holding up a grape.

"Alright! Here we go."

Wendell threw grape after grape, increasing Booth's ego every time. He got multiple combos and throughout his reign Angela, Daisy and Cam stood up, and though all of them caught some, it was clear their numbers were no match to his.

"After some speculation I find I would like to try this game," Brennan announced, finishing a small bag of Doritos. Wendell sat down after consuming more grapes than he deemed possible, giving her the floor.

Cam laughed. "Who's up against Dr. Brennan, then?"

"Wait, woah, woah. 'After some speculation'?" Hodgins blurted. He suddenly found his head being dipped down by his wife, who told him to shut up.

"I got ya, Bones." Booth walked back to his spot around the blanket.

"Ooh, Dr. Brennan! How good's your throw?" Daisy sat up, suddenly more interested in what was going on now than her boyfriend feeding her grapes.

"I've seen Bones here slug some people, I think her throw's pretty good," Booth winked again, but his partner didn't return it. Instead, she tossed Angela a look that held more mischief than the artist ever thought possible for her.

"Don't take it so seriously. It's just throwing grapes." Cam said.

Taking a small handful of fruit, anthropologist got to her knees. "You ready, Booth?" With his nod, she threw one. Her aim was off, so he had to reel back, but he got it. "Very good. Here comes the second."

With one last look to Angela, she threw all that was in her hand. It wasn't a very mischievous plan, but it certainly didn't go unnoticed by her partner. The tiny ovals bounced off his face in all different directions, landing I the grass and bouncing off the blanket. As they ricocheted off his face – clearly not what he was expecting – he took a moment to eye his partner carefully, watching as she sat down again and began to laugh. Not a single one landed in his mouth.

"Bones!" He yelled before dashing around the circle of friends in her direction.

"Brennan, no!"

"Dr. B!"

"Dr. Brennan!"

Still laughing, she only had a split second to react, seeing him stalking toward her. Not nearly enough time. "No wait! Booth!" She didn't even get to stand before he grabbed her and pulled her down on the blanket. Her yell was lost in her laughter as he tickled her. Actually _tickled_ her.

Booth laughed as he realized he was being assaulted by people wielding grapes. He took a moment to grab a bag of chips and throw them blindly at his opponents. He was pretty sure he missed.

That moment was a moment too long as Brennan recovered quickly from her own assault to her ribs and flipped him over, removing his hands from her and pinning them to the side of his head. She looked down at her fallen foe, smiling as she did, then looked over to her friends.

Cam was practically on her back she was laughing so hard; Wendell and Hodgins had gotten into a fight about who just won the battle; Daisy and Angela were too busy laughing and throwing aw's at the duo and Sweets gave them the annoying cheeky smile Booth hated.

"Aw, Bren, look at him." Angela cooed, eyeing the agent beneath her. "He's practically in shock."

"Dr. Brennan that was _hilarious_!" Daisy piped in.

"He looked so cute when he's embarrassed," Angela commented, Daisy concurred.

"Well he assaulted me." She defended, releasing his wrists from her gentle grip.

"Would you guys stop it? I'm not embarrassed." Booth said, glaring at Sweets.

Hodgins scoffed, sipping on his Cherry Coke. "Please, the man's never been more shocked in his life."

"I'm _not_ embarrassed!"

"That was," Brennan chuckled. "That was very fun. I can't remember the last time I was tickled."

That word sounded. . .strange coming from her mouth. Booth was about to make the comment when Angela beat him to it.

"You don't remember being tickled, Sweetie?" She laughed.

Cam finally broke out of her laughter, catching her breath with a chilled bottle of water from the cooler. "That was positively the funniest thing I've seen since Michelle showed me that video of the talking dog. Seeley, your face was. . ." she trailed off, sipping her water.

"Thanks Camille." Booth said bitterly.

Brennan shook her head at Angela. "Not really."

"Well, glad to know Booth brings fun into your life, Sweetie." Angela said, eyeing their current position.

"Did I do something wrong?" Brennan looked down at her partner. Instead of making a smart remark about what was so obvious about them at the moment, Booth just looked up at her, smiling.

"Absolutely not!" Sweets interjected, finally saying something since Booth's attention was turned away from him.

"Should I get up?" Brennan asked him seriously.

He shrugged. "If you want." He smiled.

She felt her face become hot, as she knew everyone had heard him.

Angela fanned herself dramatically. "I thought it was hot out here because of the _sun_." She leaned over at Cam and Daisy. "Turns out it's these two."

"Hey, stop that!" Wendell broke off his conversation with Hodgins and threw grapes at Angela, Brennan and the others.

"Don't make this a war, kid." Angela smirked, raising her own handful.

"Hodgins has my back," the Intern looked back at his friend. "Right Buddy?"

At the look the artist gave him, the scientist leaned away. "Apparently I'm on her team, dude. Married sort of automatically sets up my team."

"You're so whipped!"

Brennan finally slid off and to the side of Booth as he leaned over her to the grape bowl and threw a ton at Hodgins. "Who's whipped!"

"You having fun, Sweetie?" Angela called over to her friend.

Brennan glanced over at her partner running after Hodgins with Wendell, a bowl of grapes in either of their hands as they pelted each other. She laughed. "Oh yeah."

* * *

**Waaaaaah! It got crumbly and fell apart at the end. **


	16. Accident

Gah! So sorry! Been doing a lot lately! Forgive me!

This one is fairly long and just something random. I dunno, not my best or my favorite, but I said I'd post all the stories I had and _here you go_. Keeping to my word!

P.S: I don't know why I picked Vermont, and I don't know why she's there.

Disclaimer: You hear that? Shh, shh. Listen. That's the sound you get when **you don't own a damn thing**!

Accident

Takes place seven weeks after Season 6 Finale.

She hadn't seen them all right away, and it wasn't purposeful. Or planned.

Just kicking off her new job (and promotion she received in Vermont), Hannah booked a hotel room in the heart of D.C. where she would begin her interviews at a local police station for her first professionally published work. Her new boss, as well as the board, all agreed her first job should be somewhere she'd been before, so she would be able to get around easier. It hadn't been hard to decide where to go. The closest place she'd been to that was anywhere _near_ Vermont had been Washington D.C. So naturally, she brought it up to the board and it wasn't long before the decision was made to send her on her way, plane ticket in hand.

Shockingly, in thinking of a place to go, she had hardly even considered the events that had occurred last time she was there. Sure, there was a few passing thoughts – memories – that sprung up but she was mainly focused on work and not the possibility of running in to anyone.

Which was why she was so shocked to have seen the four of them at the park. She hadn't considered it.

They didn't see her, all caught up in their laughing and talking. As far as they were concerned, she was just another person in the corner of their eyes making her way to her destination.

Hannah had first spotted them as she J-walked to the other side of the street. The police station she wanted to hit first was on that side of the road and she'd be able to go right into the parking lot if she stayed on this sidewalk. She looked both ways as she bustled to the other side, her shoulder bag bouncing off her shoulder as she did so.

Just as she'd stepped onto the sidewalk, she looked ahead of her briefly, taking in the greenness of the park, the pond with a handful of ducks here and there. It was just a glance, but something in her mind made her do a double-take. And that's when she saw them.

It was the entomologist and Angela, the artist who amazed Hannah with her skills computer-programmed or no. The other two were people the Journalist knew well.

Temperance Brennan, Anthropologist expert (the best in the world), and Seeley Booth, Special Agent at the FBI.

All four of them stood casually in front of a bench in the shade of a tree. In the shock of seeing the familiar figures, she stopped. Despite her hurry to be at the station before anyone else, she stood where she was at. She was a good distance away that if anyone had happened to look over, they would assume that she was just looking around at the park, or waiting for someone there. Nothing to draw attention to.

Hannah watched in surprised interest as her ex smiled then laughed at something Angela had said. Hodgins must've said something somewhat offensive as his wife smacked his arm, not taking her eyes off the two people in front of her. It was then that Hannah realized a fifth person was with them.

It was a baby. Although she couldn't tell what age or how big it was, she knew it was just that because a stroller was in front of the married couple, facing Hannah, and the blankets were moving. Which was what caught her eye. She thought, for a moment, she discerned a faint cry carried by the wind or an echo that emitted from the infant. Her assumptions were proven correct as Angela sat on the bench and pushed away the large sun visor and made faces inside the stroller. The other three moved around her.

All was uneventful for a few seconds until Temperance bent down and picked up the baby and placed him (for now she could see it was a 'him' from the clothing he wore) on her hip somewhat awkwardly but with confidence. Her partner proceeded to make faces at him and claimed his spot next to her.

She didn't know why, but she took in what the anthropologist wore. It was nearly two months into the summer – which would account for the warm weather – but now that autumn was around the corner, there had been a few bouts of rainfall, leaving a light coolness over D.C. Though it was thin, the anthropologist sported a light blue-striped sweater with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The style was long, pulled down to her mid-thigh, and she wore skinny jeans that didn't look tight at all – not like what the "kids" had nowadays. Flats were the shoe-type she chose for that particular day. Black ones.

Her hair was done in a different way than Hannah last remembered and it took her a moment – at her angle – to realize that her hair had grown out, her bangs were longer. Duh. She wore a hat that sat on the back of her head. Hannah didn't get those styles, where the had wasn't meant to cover your head entirely, but somehow still managed to not fall off. Hannah thought about her own attire.

T-shirt, overcoat, slightly-curled hair, black work pants and sneakers. _The life of a nomad_, she mused, remembering when she'd first moved in to Seeley's apartment with just three bags and herself.

She continued to watch, suddenly intrigued, as Brennan made faces at the baby and wiggled her fingers in front of his face. She looked over as her partner said something, and Hannah watched as Hodgins and Angela made 'Ohhhh!' faces, as if a good joke was made. Brennan seemed to turn to them defensively, apparently irritated with Booth.

Hannah took a moment to examine her old fling as well.

Clad in just a grey T-shirt (leather jacket held in his hand at his side), faded blue jeans and his favorite all-black shoes, Seeley looked much more relaxed than Hannah could ever last remember. His hair was longer, probably too long for his liking. The smile plastered on his face told her that he was happy, now. And quite right, too. Her mind flashed to the last time she'd seen him. Disappointment, anger, resentment, betrayal, hurt. All emotions she'd seen on his face the last time she'd been in this city.

How could he suddenly be so happy? Had he already let go? Forgotten? Then again, she hadn't even thought about him as she flew in from Vermont to do the story here. It didn't mean the memories were any less painful.

But what caused the joy in him? Though she couldn't see them from this distance, what caused the light in his eyes? It wasn't the beating he approved of the entomologist receiving, being pushed and punched on the arm. It wasn't the remark Angela just made, or the attention the now babbling, gurgling baby was getting from the group, making everyone laugh.

Continuing to watch, no longer thinking about the interviews, Hannah observed further, holding the strap of her bag in place as it hung over her shoulder. A movement from the duo caused her to grip the strap uncharacteristically tight.

As the baby settled on Brennan's hip once more, Booth seemed to inch closer to his partner, stepping to the side to place an arm around her. The knee-jerk response for her, it seemed – as she did it almost instantly – was to rest her head on his shoulder. She bounced the baby in little movements, shocking the Journalist to no end, as she remembered Temperance never showing such contentment before. She stood up from the tree she found herself leaning against as her ex's hand moved from her shoulder down to her hip, just under the infants' thigh.

How could _that_ have happened? Hannah's mind raced. Were they really in that sort of relationship? Or were they always like that before. . .before Seeley had gone to Afghanistan and met her? Words couldn't be found to describe the thoughts running through her head at the moment. He'd told her himself; told her that things weren't like that between them. Temperance had admitted she had feelings for Seeley, and Hannah had trusted him when he'd said it wasn't going to happen. And she trusted Temperance when she said she would handle it and that she didn't mean to hurt anyone. Because, honestly, once you get to know the woman, she really doesn't play that way.

How had the brilliant scientist conquered her emotions in the six months Hannah had been gone? How much had _actually_ changed? Hannah suddenly felt like a huge piece of her life here was ripped from her, shut out into darkness. The same question coming back to her: How much had really changed?

It was just a simple gesture. Should she be making a big deal of it?

Of course! She brainstormed mentally. Wasn't the artist a big sucker for these two in the past? She'd heard stories from Seeley and Cam, at various times during her stay here. Angela had kind of a thing for these two. She'd have been their biggest fans, once upon a time. Then he'd met Hannah. . .

Hannah looked over to the artist who had, during her thinking, leaned back on the bench and was joined by Hodgins, who laid an arm over the back. They both looked up at the partners, clearly all in deep, humorous conversation. Hannah peered at Angela, looking for any hint of sudden surprise or shock; anything leading to believe this was the first she'd seen of such a display.

Nothing.

She simply looked at them comfortably. Though the smug, contented smile she played for them didn't go unnoticed by Hannah. Obviously this had been a long time coming and it had been out in the open for a while.

She observed further, intent on getting the whole thing sorted, She realized she'd been watching them for almost five minutes, but she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Seeley made gestures with his free hand, really in to whatever he was saying. By the time he was done explaining, he had the other three laughing. Hannah wondered if it was something he'd told her before.

They baby got fussy and Brennan was forced to hand him over to his father, who kissed his cheek and pretended to eat his hand while his mom got the stroller.

She watched with sparked interest as the two parents were occupied by their child, leaving the duo. Brennan seemed to be saying something that got Booth laughing. She stood up straight and Hannah noticed for the first time how close to his height Temperance was. She thought back to how she'd have to stand on tip-toe to reach Seeley, because she didn't prefer heels. It wasn't to say Brennan was abnormally tall, not at all. She still fell a few inches short of her partners' height.

Again, Hannah watched.

Booth came in close, _too close_ for having been 'just partners'. Unless there was now a double meaning to that term for them. He was saying something to her that got her smiling. Hannah felt embarrassed. She shouldn't be watching, it was weird. But she had to, just to see if. . .

Booth placed his arms loosely around her. He said something to her, and she made a head gesture (rolling her eyes?). She replied and then it was his turn. The topic must have been shoes, because she looked down at hers. Hannah imagined a confused expression on her face as she looked back at him.

It was slow-happening, but Hannah could've sworn they were going to kiss. Maybe their relationship was newfound, testing the boundaries in secret. But if that were so they wouldn't be doing the complete opposite in public where they'd be seen. Let alone practically right in front of two of their friends.

She imagined them to be bantering back and forth. They were so close their noses touched, but still they went back and forth. Brennan's hands came to rest on his shoulders as the gap was finally closed between them. They were chaste kisses, but Hannah had the feeling that each two second lip-lock meant more to than met the eye. More than any kisses they'd shared in previous relationships. And that plausible realization hurt a little.

She still couldn't believe what she was seeing. They were together seven months out of his year in Afghanistan, then broke it off nearly around February. Close to a year. It had been months since then. It seemed like enough time, but then again, a year is along time, too. She pondered these thoughts as she shouldered off the tree, starting her less brisk walk in the direction she'd set off in minutes before.

Maybe after their relationship ended, it took him months to get over it. But you don't just propose to someone and move on. Her mind was brought, again, to that last night.

Hannah turned, taking one last look at them all, now further away than before due to her change in position. She just made our the four of them, walking along the path in the opposite direction than her. She caught a glimpse of the partners. She'd never pegged Temperance Brennan for much of a hand-holding kind of girl, and she was right to do so. The anthropologist held on gently to her partners' arm as they exited the park, looking as though it was part of their every day routine, like she belonged there.

Turning, she continued her trip to the police station. Hannah thought with a slightly more positive outlook on this whole thing. She had been wrong to say what she did that night when she left.

They were definitely done.

* * *

**I know, I know. "What are the odds of Hannah coming across them in a place like D.C.?" It was just an idea. This was just my idea on how she may see them after everything that happened. No anger or anything, just observing.**

**And don't ask about the long description of Brennan's clothing. For some reason, I just had the idea of what she was wearing and it fir her perfectly and she always wears those stretchy skinny-jeans anyways. And we've seen Brennan in that hat before. Santa in the Slush, anybody? ;D**

**Yeah, I don't like this one. Pictured it a lot better in my head.**


	17. Sick!

Going to try and get three or four chapters up today! Woop! I owe you guys. .

Disclaimer: That depressing feeling you get when you remember: you don't own your favorite show.

Sick!

Takes place nine weeks after Season 6 Finale.

"Uuuughh." Booth groaned to the ceiling.

Half an hour ago, he'd woken up to a slight headache and an empty bed. One of his two problems was resolved when he heard water running in the bathroom. The other, however, escalated. Minutes after he woke up, he had to shield his eyes from the bright light shining through the blinds. Tossing an arm over his face he lay motionless for minutes until the headache became unbearable. Moving caused the headache to scream and staying still encouraged it to worsen. Finally he had to face it. There was only one explanation.

He was sick. And he did _not_ feel good.

It wasn't like this sprung out of the blue. He'd felt a little more drained than normal by the time he'd gotten home. Sure it was work, and it left you naturally with a sense of some down time and relaxing, but a person knew when they were feeling sick, and he was _sure_ not to bring it up in any of last nights conversations.

Just as he was ready to force himself out of the bed – due to sore limbs and a throbbing skull – the bathroom door opened. Fresh from her shower, and forever stopping his mission of sneaking some ibuprofen before she got out, Brennan padded into the room.

"Morning Bones." Booth said casually. He felt relieved, though slightly shocked at his partners' impeccable timing. If he revealed he was sick, or said he was feeling remotely so, he'd get a lecture and a day-long visit from Doctor Bones. The 'New Brennan' since they were together.

"Booth, how are you feeling?"

Or maybe she used her superpowers to figure it out herself.

Clad in stretchy-jeans and a baby blue maternity top that covered her baby-bump, she walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

He decided to play coy, in case there was a different meaning to her question. "What d'you mean, Bones, I feel fine." Lies, he thought to himself, rather amused.

She jumped right to the point. "Booth, you're sick," she said it like it was a fact he ought to know, but didn't.

He sighed, another plan yet again failed. Five seconds. Must be some kind of record. "How did you know?"

"You were running a high fever all night; sweating through the comforter. Why do you think you're only under a sheet?"

She was right. He hadn't even noticed. Now that he looked around the bed, the blanket was pulled off of him and most of it was on her side, leaving him generously covered with the sheet. "Well I'll be damned," Booth remarked before laying his head back on the pillow, a hand to his eyes that were irritated form the light again.

"Move your hand," He didn't, and the end result was his hand being moved for him. Her hand was cool to the touch on his forehead, a little too cool. How high a fever was he running?

"Ah, Bones," he grabbed her wrist. "that hurts."

"I'm only checking your temperature. Would you prefer a thermometer?" She looked at him, worry on her face.

"No, no sorry." He shook his head, more out of the throbbing in his eyes than anything else.

Her hand was back on his head, but only briefly. Then there was a rattling next to his head that sounded, as the sound is unmistakable to almost anyone, like a bottle of pills being opened. He looked over to the nightstand to find her placing two ibuprofen pills in her hand, a glass of water next to the lamp. He was amazed.

"How did you do that?"

Brennan set the bottle down. "Do what?"

"Get the water and pills without leaving the room." He pointed at the objects.

She looked at him incredulously as she held up the items. "Can you sit up?"

Booth nodded and forced his upper body into a sitting position, leaning on the headboard.

"I didn't have to leave the room," she continued. "I put them there before I went in the shower in case you woke up. Didn't you see them?"

He laughed, in no way humorous.

"What?" He downed the pills and she took the water back from him. He lay down on his back and she put a hand on his chest.

"Nothing it's just, before you came out I was going to sneak into the kitchen and take care of it so you wouldn't know I was feeling so terrible." He quirked a small smile, gesturing towards the nightstand. "I didn't even look around before attempting it."

"That bad?" She said, sympathy and worry written on her features. He nodded. "You _are_ sick. You are not going to work today." She said defiantly, getting off the bed.

He made to go after her, but it was like there were eyes in the back of her head.

"Don't get out of that bed, Booth. I've already called the Bureau."

"What!? Bones, why would you do that?" Unable to contain the hurt anymore, he rubbed his eyes and face furiously. There was silence and although he couldn't see her, he imagined her standing in the doorway, thinking.

When he opened his eyes again, the room was darker, dimmer; the blinds drawn almost completely closed. His eyes trailed Brennan as she walked over to the nightstand on her side and removed her phone from its charger. She sat on her messy half, her back to him as she tapped away at the screen.

There was a few minutes of him and his headache in the quiet. Just as he was about to close his eyes, feeling drowsy, her phone rang.

"Sorry, Booth," Brennan said. She picked it up "Hello?" Talking on the other end, then, "Yes, Ange. He's sick. He's not throwing up, it might just be a cold." More talking. "Of course I know that. He-" She looked back at him as she was cut off, shrugging an apology to him. At his glazed expression, she mouthed the word, "What?"

He shook his head.

She adjusted her position on the bed, switched the phone to a different shoulder and placed a hand on his head once again. "I just- I feel _responsible_, Ange." Another short pause, maybe a remark. Brennan offered her friend on the other line a small smile. "Could be the hormones." She wouldn't have her friend talk to her for much longer. "Angela, Booth has a fever. I'll talk to you later."

She pressed a button then looked down at her partner. She sighed. "I swear Booth, I only texted her, then she was calling me."

"Mm, it's fine."

She gave him a genuine smile, before sliding off the bed. Before she could stand up completely, he caught her wrist.

"You don't have to stay home, Bones. I'm an adult you know."

She looked down at him, lying there in the sheets, looking for all the world like he could use some sleep. She squeezed his hand. "That's exactly what Angela said. I told her it was the hormones making me want to stay."

"And?" He pressed, his charm smile being swallowed by his sleepy-state.

"I dunno. I love you, I guess." She shrugged. "It won't kill us to not go in to work for one day. No murders."

"Mm, thanks for staying home, Bones."

"You're welcome." She gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze before moving off the bed, catching her balance, and closing the door quietly while her partner slept.

* * *

**Now you look me in the eye and tell me the sound of a pill bottle being picked up or opened isn't one of the most recognizable sounds there is.**

**Part two coming later today, I promise!**


	18. Sick! Part Two

Part Two! Then two more after this that are also back to back.

Disclaimer: "If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it." . . .Oh you have no idea, Beyonce.

Sick! Part Two

Takes place nine weeks after Season 6 Finale.

"So I was talking to Angela," Brennan said as Booth dressed from his shower. "She thinks that when you're feeling better we should all go out somewhere."

"Go out?" He pulled a shirt over his head, only to turn and look at her with shock on his face. He had been feeling worse since earlier that morning, the fact that he was sick became more prominent with coughs and a sore throat. The cough came after he'd woken for the second time at around noon, his headache remained (as did his fever), and if he moved certain limbs, it felt like he'd twisted them the wrong way the day before. But it all subsides somewhat as he'd felt the hot water touch his skin. Funny how showers did that. "What's with her and 'going out' lately?"

"Well we're her friends. And I must say that I agree with her sudden realization that life has gotten away from us all the last few years, especially since she realized two new additions will be made to the group." Brennan said, continuing to flip through the book she was reading. "She realized we all don't 'hang out' many places together. Besides the Diner, of course."

He nodded, occupied with looking at the back of his throat in the mirror best he could. Satisfied it didn't look worse, he rubbed it, turning out the light.

She made a side glance at him. "You probably want to take that off, unless you want to sweat through it tonight."

He held a bit of it in his hand. "You think so?"

"Booth." She chided. "You've had a fever all day. Despite your beliefs about showers it won't kill that quality of being sick. A fever's a fever and it won't break until your body has fought off whatever's making you ill."

"But it's a shirt." Even as he complained he removed it, not really in the mood for a spat over something as simple as an article of clothing. He was so tired, despite having slept all day.

Brennan gave him her full attention for the first time since he went into the bathroom. Setting down her book, she sighed. "I suppose I should ask earnestly how you are feeling."

"No better than twenty minutes ago."

She felt a pang on sympathy for her partner, something she'd been feeling off and on all day. The way he replied struck something in her that she couldn't exactly identify further, though. "Really?" She figured she'd let her brain take a break and approach his side of belief. "Your superstition about the shower-"

"Was wrong, completely wrong." He laid down next to her, pulling the sheet over himself. A cough escaped him and Brennan winced at the grinding sound it made.

She subconsciously laid a hand over her stomach; the little bulge underneath the fabric of her shirt somehow grounding herself into keeping random tears (hormones, she suspected) at bay. He didn't like being sick, part of the stubbornness in him as well as the nagging feeling that he'd had to miss work, even though it was reasonable because he had a fever.

All day she took care of him, making food, supplying liquids, checking his fever. Doing things that weren't really necessary for a grown man to have provided for him, for he could clearly do things himself, but it was the mother in her coming out. Angela had said so herself when they'd spoken earlier. Every time she asked how he was feeling, he answered bitterly or with sarcasm. There was a sneaking thought in the back of her head that wondered if _she_ could be the cause. Maybe he was accepting her help to be nice; he didn't want to usher her away. Was he still angry about her calling him in sick?

Logically, Brennan knew none of what she was thinking could be true. But emotionally she felt there could be some truth behind them. Damn hormones.

At his partners' sudden silence he looked up at her, finding her looking blankly at her feet. Her hand on her stomach didn't escape him. He sat up and laid a hand over hers, startling her.

"You okay, Bones?"

She looked at him, meeting his eyes and forming an automatic smile. Silently she removed her hand from under his and placed it on top. "Yes. Just tired." She lied.

He smiled back and they had a 'moment'. One of the things that had been there since the beginning of their partnership, if not soon after. A long look in the others' eyes; gazing, thinking, comprehending. Enjoying the familiar company of the other so near. How many times, Brennan wondered, had she looked at him this exact way, not knowing her growing affections for him? Not realizing the way in which she effortlessly returned his gaze; mirroring the expression he showed her? And how many times had he done the same? Why was it so easy to just stop a conversation and, well, _forget_? Thinking of nothing except the now, the exact moment they were in.

She quirked a different smile this time, ending their trance. Coming up close she put a hand on his forehead, an automatic thing since she'd been doing it all day.

"What's the temp, Doc?" Booth asked.

"Still hot. I can't discern significant increase or decrease, but you are still very warm." She said in her usual factual tone.

"Yeah, figures," he leaned across her to turn off the lamp, then did the same on his side. "I don't discern an increase or decrease in how I feel, either, so it makes sense." He added. She crawled under the covers, laying apart from him as usual, Booth facing her and Brennan on her back.

They lay in companionable silence for a time, Brennan eventually closing her eyes.

"Oh," Booth said suddenly, leaning up and over her torso, effectively opening her eyes. "Almost forgot." He hovered over her and kissed her shirt-covered stomach, rubbing the growing bump with his thumb. "Night, kiddo."

Brennan covered her enormous smile with her hand, looking up at the ceiling and trying to avoid laughing at him. "You're ridiculous."

"Oh am I?" He kissed her belly again, not really having a good come back for that.

"Yes, you are." Her smile remained as he came to lean over her, his eyes directly above hers. "Even though you're sick, you're still humorous."

"And I made you feel better." He shifted, mindful to not actually put a lot of weight on her stomach and choosing instead to lean over her sideways.

Her smile faded and she moved her hand to his upper arm. Damn. He knew she was upset. "Yes."

"Don't take my bitterness to heart, okay?" He turned his head to cough to the side and looked at her again. "I'm not mad at your beautiful face." He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"What are you doing?" She asked, closing her eyes as he moved from her cheek to her temple, across her forehead and down the other cheek and over her nose, kissing lightly everywhere he went.

"You won't let me actually kiss you so." He murmured.

"Isn't this just as bad?" She murmured back as he double-kissed her temple.

"I dunno, you're the Doc," she heard the calm in his voice and guessed he was still trying to reassure her that he wasn't mad. "You tell me."

She didn't reply. Just enjoyed feeling him roam to every inch of her face he could reach, ending each random pattern with a kiss to each closed eye.

"Stop," She started to chuckle. It was slow and thick with the drowsiness she now felt. "You're making me sleepy."

"Mission accomplished." Booth murmured, placing a final kiss between her eyebrows. Officially too tired to open her eyes, she rolled over. He pulled her close to him, knowing that she might wake up at some point during the night and have to remove herself from his hold. He lay his head on the pillow they now both shared and kissed the back of her neck. "Night Bones."

She responded, placing her hand over his on her stomach and stroking it until she fell asleep.

* * *

**Sorry if you guys don't peg Brennan as a 'hand-on-baby-bump-for-comfort-and-reassurance' kind of gal. Cute though, eh?**

**And just for you, I changed the ending to this one because the previous ending was just not satisfactory. This ending was a lot fluffier and flowed better! And AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH wasn't that for the better!? I had such feels writing this one. /HELP/**


	19. The Spy in the Best Friend

Last two chapters took place at Booth's house when he first gets sick, now we go to Brennan's apartment! Woop!

And thank you guys _so much_ for the reviews. Seriously, I told you my writing gets better and you guys stuck with it and give me such nice reviews on like the last 6 or 7 stories. Ya'lls rule!

Disclaimer: Instead of a disclaimer, I'm just gonna give ya'll a fun fact: The show was originally going to be called 'Brennan' but it got changed to 'Bones'. . . . .Nope, still don't own this shit. Fics are just mine, characters. . .Not so much.

The Spy in the Best Friend

Takes place ten weeks after Season 6 Finale.

"Hellooo." The woman peeked in from behind the door.

It was Brennan's apartment, so naturally Angela used her key and walked right in, leading Hodgins into the special home that belonged to the brilliant anthropologist. At the sight of the long-forgotten place Hodgins gave a low whistle, taking in the kitchen, living room and dining room that he hadn't stepped foot in in probably close to two years. Everything about her home _screamed_ anthropologist. And, most importantly to him, rich.

"Wow, this brings back memories, huh? I hardly even remember the last time I was here." The entomologist looked up and around, noting the different artifacts and keepsakes from all the digs she'd been to in the past. "Not much as changed."

His wife turned on him, looking him seriously in the eye and whispering. "Shh! Hodgins! You hear that?"

Together, artist and scientist stood stock still as they listened for a quiet moment.

Unsure what he was supposed to be listening for, Hodgins remarked, "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly," Angela whisper-yelled. "We told them ten, but it's dead quiet."

"Maybe they already left."

"I don't think so," Angela said as she wandered into the kitchen, looking around for evidence of food being made or the coffee pot being used. Nothing.

She looked over to find her husband enthralled in a plastered set of news articles and shelf full of ancient weapons. Leave it to Hodgins to find a museum in a friends' home, although her best _anthropologist_ friend didn't make it too hard.

Angela let him be and made her way over to the back where the bedrooms and bathrooms were. Brennan's bedroom door was left open a crack, making silent access incredibly easy.

The door swung back with hardly a squeak, revealing two sleeping forms in the room. On her best friends' bed was the woman herself and her partner. It wasn't exactly a surprise, considering everyone knew the change in their relationship, and it wasn't in the least bit wrong to assume they'd been sharing space, as well as a bed. But the whole thing of seeing it firsthand – especially after shipping them both for _so long_ – was about as special as a four-leaf clover; rare and extremely lucky (to have found at least).

Booth lay on his back, head to the side with his cheek resting on the pillow and his chin sitting just millimeters from the top of his partners' head. Her head was on his shoulder, cheek resting on his bicep. One of his arms came to overlap Brennan's, stopping over her lower ribcage. The other looked as though it's been holding her to him, but with the relaxed state of sleep, had fallen limply behind her. The blankets came to his mid chest, just covering Brennan's shoulder from the position she was in, giving Angela a view of only her closed eyes.

Brennan lay, as weird and out of character for her as it seemed to Angela, half on top of her partner. An arm over his middle that looked to have once been so secure held a small tuft of the shirt he was wearing.

Angela made her way over to the corner of the bed closest to them, getting a better look. The grin she reserved for 'I knew it' moments plastered brilliantly on her face. Getting the eye-full she hoped, she saw Brennan's face with more detail.

She seemed to sleep soundly, no evidence of previous displeasure towards the intimate embrace her and Booth shared, not that _Angela_ would have much complained either.

She couldn't resist as she pulled out her phone, hitting the camera button. She captured one of them full-frame on the bed, and a second of just their faces. Her mind raced as she imagined what would become of her if one of them were to wake up. What if _Booth_ woke up? His gun was on the expensive-looking nightstand under the just-as-expensive-looking lamp. Even so much as the artist clearing her throat could lead to an accident. Nevertheless she continued smiling.

She didn't know how long she was just standing there, watching, every inch of her adult being begging her to scream or wake them up with a witty remark. But her trance ended when Booth moved.

Angela quickly scampered back into the hall, bringing the door with her and almost banging her hip painfully on the corner of a dresser. Careful not to shut the door completely, she counted to thirty; slowly, to ensure it was safe to peek again.

Although she could have _sworn_ he was going to wake up or something, it seemed as though he'd only shifted in his sleep. Brennan's arm, previously over Booth, was now pressed between them as he'd only shifted onto his side.

With one last, long look, Angela slowly pulled back the door returning to the living room.

She found her husband – child-like imagination as he had – wielding a very ancient-looking weapon, fighting off figured Angela could not see. She stood a handful of feet behind him, an 'Oh you' smirk on her face. When he got to the pretend bad guys behind him, he stopped, shuffling out of his warrior stance and disregarding the weapon completely.

"Angie, I- ah, are we going?"

She laughed at him, taking his arm and herding them to the door. "We're leaving, but not to the Diner. We're going at one." With a quick rummage through her purse – that she'd thankfully set on the island in the kitchen before her previous exploration – she scribbled a note on a crumpled piece of paper, leaving it on the coffee table, then ushering Hodgins out the door.

* * *

**Out of character for Angela, I know. What can you do? It's FF! ;D **

**And just a heads up that although the next chapter will be a continuation of this one, it won't have the same title. You guys rule!**


	20. Small Talk and No Fever

Part Two of The Spy in the Best Friend.

Disclaimer: Hey Hart Hanson, Stephan Nathan, sharing is caring.

Small Talk and No Fever

Takes place ten weeks after Season 6 Finale.

"You know what, Bones? Forget what I said. Angela's right, I feel like going out today!" Booth sounded rather chipper as he entered the kitchen from the bedroom, scoring a glass that he planned to see halfway full with orange juice.

His partner chuckled from her spot at the counter in front of her food, turning down the volume of the kitchen TV that showed the weather for the next seven days. "Hence the original outing we planned." She gave him an amused look. "You are feeling better today, I take it."

"Better," he said, kissing her on the cheek from behind then backing away and gesturing to all of himself. "I feel _great_! I'm not sick anymore, my fever's gone. Here, feel me." He pointed at his forehead.

"I believe you, Booth." She looked away from him and handed him a buttered piece of toast. "Oh and here. Angela left this for us this morning, since we neglected to get up at the proper time."

Booth looked over the piece of paper, scribbled on it was a short note:

_Stopped by at ten and everyone was asleep!_

_Be at the Diner by 1:00. _

_-Angela._

He put the note back on the counter, shrugging. "Oops."

"Angela understands, I mean you are _just_ getting over a cold." Brennan shrugged. "You needed your sleep."

Booth got another piece of toast. "Yup! Well-deserved, too." Then he thought about the note. "What do you think she meant by 'everyone was asleep'?"

"I assume she means she came while we weren't awake yet, Booth." Brennan said into her eggs. She shrugged again. "Maybe it's code."

Booth chuckled, making his way around the island and sitting in a chair across from her. "Well I don't know about it being _code_, but she definitely knows something we don't."

Immediately, Brennan looked up at him, finger pointed in his direction. "Angela's not smarter than me."

Booth actually laughed, throwing up his hands in feign surrender. "I didn't say that, I swear!"

She cracked a smile herself, the one she got when she thought a pop-culture remark was funny. "That was funny, because your brain made a joking connection between my aggressive tone and gesture, making _you_ react in a way that would make me refrain from harming you."

He rolled his eyes, taking a bite from his toast. "You got me."

She didn't catch on, but drew different lines. "Yes I do." She gave him a suggestive smile, looking what she could see of him up and down.

"Cute," he said sarcastically. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

"I know what that is now! Parker told me about it." She looked smug, accomplished, as she made her way around the counter and took a close seat next to him.

"He did?" Booth was astonished, having not heard a word of the movies or books from his son lately.

"Mhm," She pushed her plate of eggs between them, placing a fork on his side and took a sip of his juice. "It's Harry Potter. Although the captivating storyline deceives me, I find the author to be very respectable and I very much like the language in which she has chosen the spells to be in. It's very interesting and different."

"No, no, no. Don't do that _thing_ you do. That series is well-liked all over the place. Don't start breaking it down into bits, learn to like something as a whole." He stabbed a piece of egg, letting it sit on the fork for a moment. "You didn't, y'know, _analyze_ it as Parker was telling you, right?"

Brennan looked at him seriously. "Of course not. You told me how you felt about that. Why?"

"Nah, y'know. Just checking." He looked at her and she eyed him back suspiciously.

She made a move and ate the egg off his fork. So suddenly that Booth hadn't had time to react. "Bones! What's the point of separate forks if you're just going to eat off mine?" In pretend anger he picked up another forkful of egg and ate it himself.

Next to him his partner laughed. He looked over at her from the corner of his eye, playing off her laughter like it was fuel and making funny faces. They only made her laugh harder.

She couldn't gather her words as another wave of laughter came over her. "Ah, Booth- I- you-"

"By the time you're done laughing, I'm going to have eaten all this."

She put her head on his shoulder, leaning into him from her chair. "Okay," she still snickered. "I'll be good." He chewed mock-angrily on his food as she let out a little laugh now and then.

Not looking down he held up a forkful of egg for her. She leaned forward and took it, returning to his side.

"You're so weird." He remarked.

"I've been called worse," she replied, reaching for a piece of toast. "I think I laughed too hard," her face twisted.

"Side hurt?"

"Yes."

He laughed at her. "You might also be hungry. Here," he slid her the plate and got up. "Where's the bacon? I smell bacon."

She, being a vegetarian, didn't like bacon. Even so, she bought and made it, just for him.

Through a mouthful of toast and forkful of egg, she replied, "On the plate under the paper towel."

"Ah-ha!" He lifted the unwanted material, revealing the perfectly cooked meat. "There it is!"

He took a bite, savoring the flavor. They were still warm; crispy and sweet. The maple kind. Delicious, absolutely delicious. He inhaled three pieces before looking up at his partner, feeling eyes on him. He swallowed and stared at her. "What?"

Brennan cocked her head, eyes filled with amusement. "You love bacon."

He smiled. "No. I love _you_."

"Well, you have a strong liking towards it, then." She half-grinned at him, not breaking eye contact.

That seems more appropriate." He pretended to think it over, just to amuse her.

To his surprise, she leaned over the counter. Sticking a hand out she ruffled his morning hair, then rounded the island to dump her dishes in the sink.

He got into it. "Did you just _touch_ my _hair_?" He advanced slowly toward her, looking as a panther would before pouncing. Brennan shrugged, doing the dishes and unaware of the sudden turn their breakfast had taken. She still held her amused smile. "_No one_," he said slowly, closing the gap behind her. "_touches_," one more step. "_the hair_." Then he got her.

Moving his fingers expertly up her sides and poking her in just the right places. She emitted a _very_ un-Brennan-like yelp before he picked her up.

"Booth- ah, no!"

"You gotta pay the price, Bones." He laughed, walking them into the living room. "It's the rules!"

"Then I would like to see this rule book!" She exclaimed as he started to spin her. "Booth, the baby! Don't drop me!"

"Never. You give up?" Booth laughed at the image in his mind of how they must look. A man over forty carrying a pregnant woman over thirty and spinning in a large living room. He caught a glimpse of them in the long mirror next to the door and laughed harder.

Brennan relented for a moment, hardly able to gather her thoughts as her couch, entertainment center and kitchen all spun by her. But she nodded. "Yes. I give up!"

To her relief, she was set down immediately and she turned around to face him, only to find that they were _both_ dizzy and held each others arms for balance. Brennan briefly hoped she wouldn't become nauseated, having just ate enough for a more literal-than-not _two_ and then being spun directly afterwards.

"You good?" Both asked, breathless and catching his balance. "Bones, you good?"

She nodded. "Never do that again, as long as we live, Seeley Booth." She panted.

He laughed, laying a hand on her head and smoothing her hair down the side of her face. "Deal."

* * *

**That's all for tonight! *bows* Thank you ladies and gentlemen, AND GOODNIGHT!**


	21. Home

Well bonjour, Boneo-Goers! Few things:

One, this starts off in Season 8 because, for some reason, I can't find the stories I have on my phone for Season 7. Agghhh, I know. Big time jump, forgive me. I hope I didn't accidentally delete them all somehow. Phones can be very frustrating. Urgh, I will try my best! Just keep reading for when things take place. I'm sorry!

Two, I just thought I'd make a comment that, _WOW_! I'm liking these reviews, guys. Loving, in fact. People keep telling me my disclaimers are funny. And I'm _loving_ this Muli-Chapter Fic. Woop!

Three, as I check my reviews 24/7, two people so far have asked me for Brennan having a craving. Well, people, sorry to say that that was one of my Season 7 stories. I KNOW. You have my permission to throw the tomatoes; I won't even be a moving target. _Lots_ of shit was in that Season 7 set, I had like 6 stories, since not many came to mind for the short season it was. Although I _will_ say that the craving has something to do within the first two chapters of this FF. The Oreos, remember? That comes up in my Season 8 stuff a little. ;)

Wow, kay, lots of A/N stuff. This was probably longer than this opening story for Season 8 is going to be. But enjoy! Remember, you guys are awesome. Stay beautacious.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the dance floor when I walk up in the club. No, I'm lying. Not even that. I don't own shit, guys.

Home

Takes place after The Future in the Past.

After what happened with Pelant at the Bureau, Booth ushered Brennan out of there and high-tailed it to the SUV. They were home in less then twenty minutes and thanked Max for being there while Christine was asleep. After Brennan insisted that he take some leftover dinner home with him, he was gone and both partners sighed after the long day they'd had.

As much as Booth would have _liked_ to finish what they'd started nearly an hour ago, the moment had been officially ruined by Caroline's call. They had all the time in the world now anyway. He was just glad that she was home, and eve more so to hear her say the exact words herself. She was under their roof, the roof they built together for their family, and really, the feel of her so close to him after so long was more than enough physical contact.

After they got home they puttered around the kitchen, neither bothering for whiskey or wine like usual. Brennan did the dishes like she always did, like she'd never left. And Booth locked the front and back doors, heading into the living room afterward to pick up Christine's toys. When she'd finished the dishes, she said she'd be in their room and he nodded, doing one last sweep of the downstairs area before turning off the lights and heading up himself.

He walked past Christine's room, only to find it was practically wide open, allowing the light from the hallway to pour in. He normally kept her door just open ajar; just a crack. Booth took a step just inside the room enough to see his partner, leaned over the crib and peering down at her daughter. One arm leaned on the top wooden rail while the other adjusted tiny stuffed animals randomly.

A smile plastered on his face, he padded into the room, startling her when he placed a hand on her back and leaned over with her. "Just me," he calmed her. "What are you doing in here?"

She never looked at him as she gazed down at her daughter. "Thinking. Watching her sleep helps." It was like she had eyes in the back of her head, because when he gave a confused look, she shook her head and clarified, "Strange, I know. But it's like when she sleeps there's automatic peace."

He guessed he understood that. It was probably the feeling of having a baby in your arms then finding out it had fallen asleep and realizing that you were suddenly tired yourself. "What're you thinking about?"

"Pelant." Gee, go figure. "My time away. I know you-" she shifted her feet, watching the way Christine's small chest rose and fell. "I know you hate that."

"Yeah, but Bones," he pressed to her side and she got the message, standing up to face him, closely. "You're home now. Christine, she's safe. And Pelant-"

"Won. He won tonight."

"Shh," he shushed her at her raised voice, mindful of the baby. "Only if that's how you see it, Bones."

She shook her head, dejected. Seemingly at an internal thought. "Marigold. . ."

"Hey, stop it." He lifted her chin so she met his eyes. "It doesn't _mean_ anything." Although in saying that, they both were aware of the opposite of that statement being abundantly true. It most definitely meant something, but only the sick mastermind himself knew exactly what.

She'd known him long enough to just go with it. Even though what he said wasn't true, he meant that it didn't mean anything _now_.

"Okay?"

She nodded, leaning in to him and pressing her forehead to his. "Okay."

"Come on," he kissed her forehead and took her hand. He squeezed it gently then let go, knowing she'd follow him. "Time for some shut-eye. It's been a long day."

"Booth," she said once they'd gotten in their room and he'd kicked the door so it lay open just a crack. She sighed. "I-"

Before she could say anything he cut her off. "Bones I know what you're going to say and – by the sound of your voice – it's going to be an apology. Don't say anything, just," he turned her around so she faced their bed and pulled the coat she wore off her shoulders and tossed it in the dirty laundry. "Y'know, relax, enjoy being home and go to sleep."

She turned back to him, a small smile on her face. "Well, it _is_ nice to be home."

He sighed at the apology heavy in her eyes at that statement. Sorry she _left_. Sorry she'd _lied_. Sorry she'd taken Christine. He knew he should be mad, – maybe that would come later – but he didn't feel it today. Not now, not her first day home, and _certainly_ not before he'd gotten her in his arms once again. "Come here." He pulled her in by her hands and engulfing her in his arms.

Her head on his shoulder, she nodded. Probably at an internal thought, his effort to further comfort her, or agreeing to needing it. "I missed you." She breathed, holding back emotion.

"I know. You may've said that before at the crappy motel."

"No but I really," she sighed, closing her eyes. "_really_ missed you. Missed this. Contact."

Booth held her tighter. "I missed you, too, Bones. So much." He thought back to when they'd almost torn each other apart in the motel, how he himself was about to punch her in the face before the familiar features surrounded by _unfamiliar_ blond caught his eye.

"Come on." he kissed the top of her head. "Time for bed."

They both changed, turned off the bedside lamps and got comfortable under their blankets. It wasn't long before she was sound asleep in his arms, leaving Booth to just feel that she was actually there. Home. Where she belonged.

* * *

**GAAAAAAAAAHHHH! *throws computer across the room* I need those other stories!**

**Would you guys rather I waited to post the Season 8 stuff, or do you not care? Like I said, unless it's a Part One-Part Two chapter, the fics have nothing to do with one another, so I could do some Season 8 and Season 7 randomly. (IF I EVER FIND IT) Until you guys let me know, I'll continue with what I can currently find. *mutters* God dammit. **


	22. After Borris

Ughhh, so _yes_ I _knooowww_ it's been a week. I deserve all the punishment you think up at me. School's started, and we had guests from Cali over the weekend and we were doing _tons_ of yard work, people! I know it's no excuse, but forgive me.

I haven't given up I SWEAR! I've seriously been busy and when I wasn't. . .Well I was watching Once Upon A Time. CAN YOU BLAME ME!? Season 2 is _finally_ on Netflix, guys. Srsly, it's totes for reals. Anyway. Sorry, my bad. I swear I haven't forgotten. I promise. Love me.

For this one we go back in time. (Still trying to find those Season 7 stories.)

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my ever-increasing shame. (See last chapter's beginning notes.)

After Borris

Takes place after Booth gets tackled in Blackout in the Blizzard.

She'd watched with amusement as the paramedics lifted "Borris" off of her partner. She laughed at the extreme amount of emotion – embarrassment, she'd identified – on his face as he was quickly ushered over to be checked. In the cold. In the snow. For hints of the virus. Wearing gloves or not, the virus was still completely viable to jump onto him, which only raised the cautionary procedures the paramedics took in carefully examining him.

Protocol of symptoms first, if the patient _had_ any. Flashlight in the eye, report of light-headedness, tingling of the limbs, bloody nose, cough. He was forced to take off his jacket, trying his best not to shiver as they stuck a needle in him for a blood sample. Rolling up his sleeves further, they examined for spots or irregular paleness of skin. When the police and ambulance had arrived, Booth had been trapped under "Borris" for a little over ten minutes. Brennan was still wielding the plank of wood she'd used to knock the large man out cold on top of him. She hadn't wanted to waste any time picking it up had he ever decided to get up.

The new comers had approached her cautiously, confirming that she was the one who'd called earlier, and she'd dropped the wood without being asked, stepped to the side to let them do their work, and smirked. The CDC Paramedics, of course, wore their special suits for this type of work, lifting the burly man off her partner.

Brennan found it amusing. Even more so since the only thing she'd gotten asked was if she'd come into direct contact at all with the man. Once she said no, they were gone and away, busying themselves with the man and Booth. Fussing over their equipment all the while.

She stood aside from it all, glancing over the scene in the small alleyway. Though there were plenty of professional people doing the jobs they'd done a hundred times, she still looked over everything. Noting the smallest details of what they did.

One group of paramedics were setting up some tables with vials and needles filled with clear, see-through liquid. Those, she noted as she skillfully scanned her eyes over them, would be for when they went in to get the people who were inside the building.

Another group was of police officers, set apart from the ambulances, calling in information, devising the right to invade the shack and retrieve the people. She carefully noted how they all walked, their hands never too-far from their guns.

She stood with her hands in her pockets, off to the side, cold and her hat not providing much warmth for her ears and head anymore. But she had to stay; her partner had the car keys. She stood pretty much where she had been when Booth was toppled over by "Borris". She could only imagine how cold _he_ must be, having been trapped awkwardly under the man's weight, far heavier than his own, for about ten minutes.

Her breath became easier to see as the temperature dropped and darkness filled the alley. The police and CDC workers lit electric lanterns that gave off a soft blue glow, illuminating the snowy-white rectangle they all occupied.

Brennan let out a sigh, growing impatient with the fact that she'd subconsciously chosen to stay in one place for so long. After all, the best way to get warm as to move around. But she chose to stay still, looking over everything and everyone with a trained, professional, skilled eye. Assuring no one messed up anything.

After she was sure they weren't going to mess up, she settled on watching Booth squirm under the metaphorical microscopes of the paramedics. He should just cooperate, she thought, not in the least bit happy with his choice of reaction to it all. They're checking to make sure he doesn't have a fatal virus! She couldn't shake the feeling that he probably wouldn't mind so much if she was over there with him to make sure everything was ship-shape. And that they weren't wasting his time, but she knew she would just be in the way.

He's an adult, he doesn't need anybody to hold his hand.

After what _seemed_ like an hour, the five CDC paramedics around him dispersed and shut their supplies away in their large plastic cases. She sighed again, shivering all the way down to her pocket-covered hands and shoe-covered toes. She watched as Booth shrugged on his coat unhappily, walking over to her with something like impatient irritation in his step.

"Did they check you?" She asked him seriously, turning to him expectantly.

"Nooo, Bones. They just asked me how Parker was doing and if I had tickets to this weeks' game." He adjusted his jacket collar around his neck, flicking it and zipping it to mid-chest. He gave her an annoyed look.

"You're being sarcastic," she replied, almost sure she got his meaning. "I don't know why."

"I'm being bitter, Bones. I'm frustrated, okay? They just play-doughed me for the last twenty minutes." Booth gestured angrily behind him at the suited medics, a look in his eye that asked why the hell she didn't get it.

"I don't think I know what that means." She wondered why they were still standing there instead of heading home. It's been a long day. . .

He looked at her, disbelieving for a moment. Then suddenly he cracked a smile, letting out a splutter as he held back a laugh. It was contagious as Brennan, too, laughed for no reason. Simultaneously they moved toward each other, embracing. The hysteria around them about to get to a whole new level as they prepped to go in the building, finally.

It reminded Booth of the hug they shared when he'd first seen her out of his coma-state; fully recovered and back for duty. They'd both just smiled, then, and hugged. It was certainly a familiar feeling.

He smiled even bigger as he looked over her shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get outta here." They pulled away and Brennan looked around at the suddenly too-cluttered place, surprised they weren't ushering them out of the way.

"I agree," she smirked. "I think we're killing their style."

Booth chuckled. "Cramping, Bones. We're _cramping_ their style."

"But cramping. . ." She stopped at his knowing smile. She sighed, but not exasperated. More of a good-natured way without words to let him know that she was amused.

"No, go ahead. Explain to me." He said, a gleam in his eye as they made their way past the blue light.

She looked at him skeptically. "I do not think I will."

"Are you sure?" He joked. He left her side and went to the front of the SUV. "I'm pretty dumb. I don't think I know the meaning of the word 'cramp'."

"Vous êtes très intelligent, Booth!" She said, meeting his eyes over the hood of the car.

"Huh?"

"Booth est très intelligent." She bragged, proud of her statement.

"What is that, German?"

"It's French, Booth." Brennan looked at him honestly, not knowing the twinkle in her eyes was present when she looked at him. "I said you are very smart. You are really intelligent."

He smiled. "Thanks, Bones."

"You're welcome, Booth."

* * *

**Awww. Forgive me? No? NOT YET! Well poo on you guys, cause I have homework and this little snip-bit took me two hours. Now I'm hungry. I'm sorry. I might start writing another one later tonight and have it up in a couple hours.**

**And yes, this takes place before my previous story, Blackout in the Blizzard. Had I **_**remembered**_** I'd done this story, I would have made them a continuation bit. I'm sorry, I forgot, I suck. But I promise! This weekend I shall write, write, write! You have my word!**


	23. Worth A Thousand Words

Good news people! Upon checking my phone one last time before starting my homework _I found __**the stories**_! I'm not very religious, but WOW! Maybe there is a God, huh!? I'm so excited!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bones or Booth, I do not own a single tooth! I do not own them with a bee. Not a goat, not a boat, not a chicken nor a coat. How lame my life must be!

Worth A Thousand Words

Takes place two weeks before 7x13.

"Sweetie, you know I'm not one to brag, but this has _got_ to be some of my best work." Angela smiled at her friends' look when she said 'not one to brag'. "Okay, maybe I. . ._flaunt_ a little bit, but you have to admit," she flashed the picture to Brennan one more time. "I'm good."

"Angela, I find it unsettling that you consider your best work a printed photograph of a person with computer-added affects that allow someone with minimal skills to make a boring picture look professionally taken. You are a painter, an artist. And therefore by the degrees and multiple images you have hung in your office, you are entitled to that name and do not have minimal skills." Brennan explained with her head cocked to the side, arms folded on her desk in front of her, clearly not sure why her friend would take to such un-considered artistry.

Angela aw'd. "Well thank you, Sweetie. But who says I can't have a little fun with said computer-animated effects, hm? And besides, it's a program made by a fantastic artist from Paris that uses only computer programming for his art. I downloaded it on my computer at home." She took to admiring the picture again. "Remember the night you and Booth announced that you were having a baby?"

Brennan smiled, remembering her daughter at home with the sitter. "Yes, of course. You were all very happy."

"Well as you know, I've been on and off with cameras the last few years. My phone, my Cannon. This was one of the pictures I took that night. I've been kind of bored lately and. . .I don't know. I came across this and thought, 'Hey, that's a nice picture.' Of course _every_ picture of you is a good one, Sweetie. So I decided, yeah, let's do that.

"And it's not like I changed the color of your skin or did blemish stuff," she continued after a short pause. "I just, y'know, enhanced the contrast, blurred the background; made you the full center of the picture."

"It's amazing what computer technology is capable of, isn't it?" Brennan remarked, suddenly fascinated with a new outlook.

"So you like the picture." Angela stated. Hope in her eyes.

The anthropologist looked at her carefully. "Well of course I like it." She quirked a smile. That was all the artist needed to know that what her friend said was the truth. "It's beautiful, Ange, thank you."

As if she'd just asked for it, Angela held the picture up to Brennan again, fingers gingerly holding the sides of the 12x15 image. "You're welcome."

"Hey Bones, lunchtime. Lez go!" Booth walked into his partners' office, rather chipper. Of _course_. It was _that_ time of day; his _favorite_ time.

"Hey Booth," Brennan regarded him fondly, turning to her computer screen while holding her coat at the ready in her lap. "I'll just be a minute."

"No problem. Hey, Ange," Booth looked at the artist, noticing _her_ rather bubbly mood.

"Heyyy, Booth," she jumped up out of her chair, one thing on her mind as she met him in the doorway. "I have something that will make you positively _flush_ with amazement!"

Booth was doubtful. "And what might that be." He glanced over at Brennan, hoping for a clue, but she was lost in her computer.

"Well. . ." She dragged on, slinking closer to him, making the all-too stoic agent become curious. She hid the picture loosely behind her, purposely making it easy for him to see that it was some type of image.

"Alright, Angela, just spit it out."

She laughed. "Okay here. That's the last time I try to surprise you."

Booth eyed her from the side, holding the picture so the white side faced him. Then he flipped the page over.

Angela couldn't help the knowing look that overcame her features as she saw his change from suspicion, to consideration and surprise.

"Oh, wow," clearly, he couldn't form any other words than _that_ at the moment.

He took in every aspect of the picture.

It showed Brennan, clearly she was in a bar – the Founding Father's ne noted, as it was unmistakable – sitting at the table he remembered that night they finally got the gang back together. She was the center of focus while the background was blurred just enough to give it that good-quality feel. The way the artist had touched the picture made Brennan's brilliant blue eyes shine a light tint of green, they way they did in certain light. Booth guessed that that was one of her main goals.

Her eyes reflected her current emotions at the time, showing awe and amazement along with excitement, yet she looked calm. She seemed to be completely focused on whoever was talking, beyond the images' view. Her lips were curled in a little open-mouthed smile. She looked on, her features flawless – something Booth knew was not added by the computer. Unaware that the picture was being taken; else wise she would have moved her hand in front of the lens.

To Booth, the picture captured how beautiful she was in every way. The raw emotion un-subtle in her features as she let herself unwind in a rare moment of forgetting science, rational thinking and evidence. He thought he remembered when the picture might've been taken. Hadn't he looked over just before Angela had snapped it?

"So you like it?" Angela asked. It was clear that he'd probably only been looking at the picture for a handful of seconds, but it felt like five minutes to him.

"Uh, _yeah_ Ange. _Wow_," he held it away and angled it up slightly as he got a better look.

She laughed. "You may have said that before."

"Just. . ._Wow_. You did this?" He questioned her.

"Well, it was nothing special, a computer program from an artist in Paris, but I'm proud of it. I tried to choose the right contrasts to complement her eyes, 'cause," she took the picture from him and turned to her friend, raising her voice to grab her attention. "she's got such _great_ eyes." She raised an eyebrow at the back of her friends' head, willing her to turn around. "Isn't that right, Sweetie?"

There was silence, save for the clicking of her fingers over the keyboard. Then, "Oh, are you talking to me?" She looked over her shoulder, spinning in her chair.

"Well I'm sure not gonna call Booth's eyes pretty, am I?" She scoffed good-naturedly. "Although. . ."

"Thanks for that, Ange." He nodded curtly at her and made his way over to his partner and grabbing her coat from her lap. "Time to go, Bones. The sooner we get to the Diner, the sooner Max and Christine can join us, huh?"

"That sounds good." She clicked send on an e-mail and tabbed down the rest of her programs. Saying a brief good-bye to Angela, she took her coat from her partner and shrugged it over her shoulders.

As they walked away, Angela overheard the beginning of a conversation she was _sure_ would carry on until the end of the day.

"Do you think I have pretty eyes, Booth?"

"_Bones_," she heard as they exited her office, he placed a reassuring hand between her shoulders. "You have _amazing_ eyes."

* * *

**I have a thing with editing pictures. I **_**love**_** it. If I take a good enough one of like an animal or scenery or a person, I edit it with those special effects things. That's kind of where this came from. It's an addiction.**

**And, come on, I can't be the **_**only**_** one who notices Emily's eyes change from **_**brilliant blue**_** to **_**gray**_** and sometimes **_**green**_**. I just have **_**hazel eyes**_**. **_**How boring!**_** Hazel's don't change color much; I envy the Deschanel gene pool.**

**I really do believe that a picture is worth a thousand words. I **_**love**_** touching up a picture of a tree, or field, or a person and making it a bit better. Yeah, it's probably good not to ruin it with computer-added effects, but sometimes you just gotta. You have to admit that they just make some pictures better, you know?**


	24. Back Early

_DO NOT HATE ME BONEHEADS!_ _FOR I HAVE FOUND MORE SEASON 6 STORIES ON MY PHONE!_

Yes, it is true. I think this will start going out of order. . .Last chapter took place in Season 7, I've only done _one_ in Season 8. . .Phones suck. I seem to be finding Season 7 stories randomly. Bare with me, as long as you read below the title of the Chapter when the stories take place: _you will be __**fine**_. Enjoy, Boneo-Goers!

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my dignity. . .But not even 'cause it's still in the Snack Isle at Thunderbird. Have I already mentioned that?

Back "Early"

Takes place three months after Season 6 Finale

He saw her as he rounded the corner form the double doors. The back of her head, even from _this_ distance, was unmistakable as she clacked away at her computer. The usual.

Halfway to her office and he saw her stand up and move around her desk, seemingly enthralled in a manila folder. Clearly she hadn't seen him as she walked over to the coffee table, which, now that he was at her doorway, he saw held dozens – and yes there were _dozens_ – of manila folders. Some opened and unopened. She had her back to him now, reading a paper from the folder she still held.

He took a moment to observe her before clearing his throat. "Bones."

Brennan turned her head quickly. The smile that appeared on her face almost instantly didn't go unnoticed by Booth as it held too much joy for him to possibly ignore.

"Booth."

She set down everything, hardly looking away from him as she met him halfway. She threw her arms around him, enjoying his ever-missed presence. Three days seemed short, but seventy-two hours got extremely long after doing work that didn't need to be done. Going home at nearly seven every day, working off and on her swollen feet as time went by, having strange cravings and not able to leave to satisfy them until break. She half laughed as he hugged her with just about the same intensity. "You're back."

"I'm back, Baby." He said, scoring himself a kiss form his gorgeous girlfriend.

"I would prefer it," she said between kisses. "if that term remained unused in this relationship-" A pause as more kissing ensued. "Other than towards the fet- the baby itself."

"Eh, worth a try. 'Bones' comes more naturally anyway." He winked, winning himself another chaste kiss.

Brennan cocked her head at him, gripping his shoulders gently. "Why are you back early? I thought you said you'd be in New York until tomorrow?" Her eyes were questioning, but they still held the joy she felt.

He pretended to think about it, looking up at the ceiling. "What if I told you, I told a small white-lie from the very beginning? So I could see your face when I 'got back early'?" He made air-quotes.

Her face went from joy to relief, she couldn't find herself to be mad. What for? "Booth," she cocked her head, looking at him endearingly. "But why?"

"No reason," he admitted, placing his arms around her. "Just to get to know you."

She didn't know what he meant by that, but she hugged him again, anyway.

"Interrupting something?" Cam said at Brennan's door, an eyebrow raised.

The anthropologist looked at her over Booth's shoulder. She cleared her throat, thought she wasn't embarrassed. Just intent on keeping work at work, and other things. . .elsewhere.

"No, what is it, Cam?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm back a day early to and came to see Bones and you're not interrupting anything," he sighed as he walked around Brennan and plopped onto her couch, taking a load off.

Brennan gave him the 'don't start' look, but he noted her playfulness in it as she recognized he was partly joking. She walked to the pathologist, seeing she had papers. "What did you find?"

"It's nothing I found, more that it's something worth filing," Cam explained, opening a folder with colored tabs, margin notes and numbers scrawled on papers. "Just something Wendell said you wanted him to check on. He just handed this to me before stepping out for the night."

"Oh," Brennan examined the text and skimmed the printed article. "This is the over-view on a find in Central America. Very interesting, I see Mr. Bray included references to websites and book chapters he found that could hold extra information on the area."

"Sheesh, really? How can you read his handwriting?" Cam looked back at the notes all over the papers.

"It is very distinctive; everyone's handwriting is their own no matter how neat or messy. It's unique, like a fingerprint." Brennan explained, as if it was shocking to realize that Cam didn't know that bit of information. She did.

"Right," Cam said, smiling at the all-too familiar response from her. She turned to leave.

"Thanks for this, Cam," Brennan said absentmindedly, as she continued to bury her head in the folder of papers.

"You're welcome. Good to have you back, Seeley." Cam called over her shoulder.

"Camille," Booth waved without looking. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the back of the couch, finally happy to have made it home in once piece and able to relax.

"So Bones," he looked at her as she sat next to him. "What's the rest of your day look like?"

There was a pause as she finished what she was reading. "I still have work to do here. Could be an hour or so." She indicated the files on her desk. "But you're more than welcome to stay or go."

"Really?" He whined. "We're not going to go out to eat, or hang out or-" he stopped, backpedalling. "Wait, Bones, you _have_ eaten today, haven't you?"

She looked at him, almost offended. "Of course I have, Booth! Of course I have." She added, reassuring him. She indicated the empty boxes of Chinese and half a pizza crust abandoned on a paper plate.

Interesting combo, Booth thought. "Good." He said, looking back at her. He didn't actually think she'd forgotten.

After a moment she quirked a smile. "What?"

He shrugged, but not like he didn't have anything to say. Judging by the smirk on his face it was more that he didn't _want_ to say what he was thinking, like he wanted her to guess. Nevertheless he sighed, laying down so his head rested on her leg like a pillow.

He looked up at her thoughtfully, enjoying the momentary look of surprise before it melted into understanding and she placed a hand instinctively on his chest.

"You're tired," she observed the rings under his eyes.

As if on cue, he yawned. Shaking his head in an attempt to reassure her. She knew better than to believe him.

"You can sleep, Booth."

"_Here_?" He scoffed. "Please."

"Well I'm not leaving," at his frown, she elaborated. "I have much too much work to finish. The least I could do is read and catch up for a while before I examine things myself, which," she added. "I will have to do tomorrow."

"What have you been doing while I was away?" He laughed up at her, playing with a lock of her hair. Booth loved that she was growing it out; he wanted to see it curly again.

"Well," she adjusted in her seat, careful not to make his position uncomfortable, and placed the folder on the arm of the couch. "Mostly I wished you were here, instead of Massachusetts. But ask Cam, I was working especially hard today, and didn't lose focus."

Booth yawned again. "That's my Bones."

Must have been a long flight, she thought. She grinned down at him, noticing he kept his eyes closed after he yawned. "I'm not going anywhere." Brennan stated, grabbing the folder once again and slipping out a paper. She enjoyed the feeling of Booth relaxing completely as he drifted.

Three days. Three days and she missed him more than she could say.

* * *

**P.S: T-T I'm sorry I've neglected you. I love you all. School's back, and I promised this weekend, but it didn't work out. I will try to squeeze at out least three 'okay-ish' chapters tonight. Stay with me!**


	25. I Got Time Fo' Dat

*shuffles awkwardly into the room* Hey. . .You guys mad at me? *silence* Sheesh, I'm _real_ sorry- *flinches* WAIT, WAIT! Hold your tomatoes, I come bearing gifts! *hands stories to readers* See? Nice, good chapters. No need to waste your tomatoes- *gets tomato in the face* Right. . .I probably deserved that.

Soooo. . .Few things. One, I'm sorry about that mistake if you guys caught it in the last chapter; I said Booth was in New York in the beginning and then, for some reason, switched it to Massachusetts. Two, for those of you who noticed yes, I did change this FanFics' description but it's still the same thing, as I'm sure you've gathered. Three, updates will _probably_ have to remain on the weekends, unless by some bout of luck I get no homework *sigh* Four, just like above, I come bearing gifts. I have dedicated the rest of my night – however long it may take – to write you all some lovely chapters.

I _loved_ the response I got from Chapter 24, and _thank_ you all _so_ much. I love coming back form a long week to seeing those reviews. And, by the way, feel free to call me on my errors, typos, or something you don't like. I mean the chapter will have already been published of course, but it will just let me know what is liked more or less. YOU ALL ROCK MY SOCKS!

Disclaimer: Owning things is so overrated. I prefer sharing. But something tells me Hart thinks otherwise. *le sigh*

I Got Time Fo' Dat

Takes place after Warrior in the Wuss

It was noon and the Jeffersonian was more or less chipper as the usual people hustled and bustled on the floor. Interns with clipboards waited for the appropriate person to sign a paper or document. Busy bosses, such as Camille Saroyan, went about the place from office to office, station to station; getting updated on the latest of everything. E-mails were sent out every hour, routinely informing the appropriate person of a change in their schedule.

One such e-mail popped onto Brennan's screen with a computerized _bling_, causing her to jump physically and mentally at the unexpected disturbance. The printed article and article she'd just been so engrossed in were lucky to not have been shoved off the desk, as her jump was just that violent. Her pen wasn't so lucky.

Why did she have the volume up so high?

Momentarily leaving the writing utensil where it lie on the carpet, she rolled her chair over to the computer monitor, hand over the mouse in an almost mechanical movement. She scanned the e-mail, finding its contents to be no different from the one she'd received nearly an hour ago. Deleting it she retrieved the pen from its fallen spot and was about to resume her date with the fascinating article when her phone went off.

She sighed, raising her eyes to the ceiling in an exasperated manner. One day, just _one_ _day_ without interruptions. That's all she asks of the Universe. She set down the pen and reached into her coat pocket for the cellular device, dreading the fact that she might find they had a case or Angela wanted to have a play date.

Hadn't she made it completely clear that she just wanted to work today? There was a skull that had been shipped from Latin America two weeks ago – the article she was reading explained how it was found and extra information regarding the numerous of remains that were found at the dig, The Jeffersonian was only able to get the one skull, due to funding. The rest of the body (that was found) would be there later in the week. She just _hadn't_ been able to get to it. There was remarkable evidence of-

Just as she read the flashing text 'Message from Booth', she got another and her phone went off again. Going to the screen of bubbles to where they'd briefly been texting earlier, she read his first text.

_Hot blooded, check it and see!_

The second said, _Parker's back from lunch with Pops! Guess what Christine wanted to listen to!_

Despite her wishes at wanting to be left alone with her reading, she found herself cracking a smile. Before she could reply, Booth sent another text. This time it was an image.

It was of Christine and Parker. Christine was sanding on the coffee table, with the help of Parker holding her sides. She had a large, open-mouthed smile and looked as though she were attempting to dance. Booth texted her again.

_Next up, Shake Your Groove Thing. Any song suggestions?_

Her plain smile turned into a chuckle and she figured she finally had enough time to reply.

_Sounds like fun. I don't think I've heard of Shake Your Groove Thing, though._

He replied within a few seconds, barely giving her enough time to finish three sentences of the paper.

_Why don't you come home early? That way Parker, Christine and I can show you. We'll put on a show!_

_Why do I have a feeling it's going to leave me scared?_

_That's mothering instinct. And I'd stand by it if I were you. Odds are it will. ;)_

Again, she was forming her own reply as he sent another.

_Want us to rehearse a dance?_

She laughed out loud at that, trying to picture Booth and Parker dancing in synch with each other. It didn't work out. . .and her brain was _very_ good at thinking up impossible situations.

_No thank you. I don't think Christine could keep up with your moves. She looks like she's having fun._

_Yup! Hey, me and the youngins were thinking some of your amazing Mac n Cheese with asparagus tonight, then off to the Royal for shakes and pie!_

_Is it really that good? And yes, that sounds great._

_Are you kidding me, Bones? It's absolutely phenomenal! I swear if Max never came out of hiding, I'd assume your parents were cooking Gods that gave you the gift of Mac n Cheese making!_

At this she shook her head fondly. That was Booth. Ever the praiser, if only to get some delicious food out of it.

_Fine. Do you know where all the recipe papers are?_

_Yup, first cupboard on the right of the fridge. Little basket with all the note cards of recipe's._

_I need all those items on there, the ones we already have at home don't get._

_Yeah, I kinda figured Bones._

Now she rolled her eyes. She was just making sure he didn't buy things they didn't need. As it was, he'd stalked up the kitchen with junk food for Parker's stay. There was hardly any room for even her Oreo cookies – something she'd still continued to crave even _after_ her pregnancy – in the snack/breakfast cupboard. Brenna had a feeling that she'd somehow have to smuggle her daughter into the Lab in order to keep a certain doting father from stuffing her small face with the unneeded sugar.

_Don't start, Booth. I'll be home at four, like always._

_You could just punch in numbers like the rest of us do._

_You don't spell out four with the number 4. 4 isn't a letter in the alphabet, it doesn't go in any words._

Somehow, their conversation was going nowhere.

_S0 y0u'r3 say1n9 7h 7t15 d03sn'7 mak3 any s3n53?_

Brennan grimaced, squinting her eyes in an effort to decipher his code. It took her a good minute and a half for her to finally get it. But again, as she was going to type back, another message came in.

_Stump you there, did I?_

_No._

Her short reply gave her away completely.

_Don't blame it on work, I know you dropped everything to text me._

_How could you possibly know that? For all you know I could be kidnapped, forced to text you like nothing was wrong._

_Don't joke about that, Bones._

Now she felt guilty. With all they've experienced, it really wasn't anything to throw around lightly.

_I'm sorry. That was rude._

_I love it when you get all formal._

_Well that was quite the mood change. Something happen between replies over there?_

He didn't text back for a few minutes, making her think that maybe he was either more mad about her slip than she thought, or something was really keeping him from his phone. Possibly a diaper change – which wasn't uncommon the last few months in their house.

_Yeah actually. Parker is just now showing me an outfit him and Rebecca bought ack in England. We just changed her into it._

_Can I see it?_

_Maybe if you come home early. . ._

That wasn't fair!

_Wait, are you black mailing me?_

_Not exactly, but sure. I'm more trying to convince you. ;)_

_That's not fair. Can I please see Christine?_

_Nope._

Short and sweet, just how he knew to push her buttons. Curse him for knowing her so well, of course she wouldn't have it any other way.

_Please? My own daughter?_

_If you come home, Bones, you can hold her and admire her new dress all you want!_

_I'm doing the face._

_Nice try, Bones. But if I can't see it, it doesn't work. XP_

Damn him.

He replied again.

_Gotta go! We're all headed to the store. Do you need anything? Besides the dinner stuff._

_That's a good idea, Booth! Don't text and drive. I ran out of those Vitamin Waters I like. Get me some of those, please._

_You got it. I guess I'll see you at four._

Leaving the conversation at that, she got back to her reading. She glanced cross the room at the skull still encased in the square of glass. If she could finish this note-taking business, she could be on her way to examining it, jotting down her findings and being on her way home before three 'o' clock. That'll show Booth.

But once again she found her special time with the article to be cut short as her phone went off. Perhaps turning on the Silent Mode will do the trick, Brennan thought briefly.

_Love me?_

Now she felt _bad_ for thinking it was somebody to annoy her more.

_Of course._

Even though it was a short reply, she could picture him smiling all the way to the store.

* * *

**So this just kind of happened. Because every Multi-Chapter FanFic needs a B&B texting story.**

**For future reference, just start checking for updates around Friday nights. I know, sorry. Just make it a thing to look forward to on the weekends! I'll always make sure to update. My Friday's are always free so me and my mom can just have a night, and then Saturdays are Yard Work Days, but I should usually update later on Saturday nights. Check in sometime within the week, cause you may never know, I could just randomly have a story for you guys!**

**And I hope ya'll don't think I'm not into this thing anymore, because I truly am. School is tougher this year because I have AP classes that always give HW assignments, apparently. Yeah, school started, like, two seconds ago and I've already had three tests.**


	26. Morning Routine

Looooong chapter. You guys okay if it counts as two more? *dodges flying objects* Oookay. *cracks knuckles* Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho. . . . .

Disclaimer: HAHA! HOW ABOUT THAT I ACTUALLY GET TO OWN SOMETHING! Ehem, I own the story about the President. It's completely made up. Not real in the _least_ bit. Just an idea. I don't own Bones. Hart, Stephan and FOX are the lucky bastards who do.

Morning Routine

Takes place anytime in the middle of Season 8 but before 8x15, around the time earlier this year when that tsunami wrecked parts of the East Coast. (No Presidents were harmed in the making of this Fic)

"It's neither unusual or strange for an archaeologist to have a reptile for a pet. Nor is it 'weird' that they may carry them when they go from place to place."

"All I'm saying is that they shoulda at _least_ stopped the guy." Angela said. "He was within range and in an _airport_, for God's sake. He shouldn't have even had it on the plane, in my opinion."

"Well, I trust that the President wouldn't put himself in unnecessary danger like that." Brennan explained to her friend. "It's not anyone's fault if something _almost_ happened. There are many people that are prepared to lay down their life for the President if need be, and I'm sure there were plenty who jumped in the way because that _looked_ to be where things were headed. Anyways, I fail to see the reason that this made it to the news. They knew the archaeologist because he's famous enough, so they _knew_ he had a pet snake at all times; you told me this. If they didn't want the President in such cautious places where danger was a problem, then-"

"_Okay_, Sweetie! I get it," Angela laughed on the other end of the phone. Talking to Brennan was usually like this, so it was somewhat comforting to the artist now to hear her speak the way she always did. Things were flying up on the news left and right lately that were getting her stressed, and not even the comforts of her own husband – no matter how silly he made something seem just by one comment – could soothe her. "I'm just a little on edge these last few days.

Brennan smiled sympathetically, aware that her friend couldn't see it, but that she'd somehow hear it in her voice. "Well it's not every day that the President walks into an accidental threat, although it would be strange if one went through his or her entire four-year term without issues. I can empathize with your distress."

Brennan could hear the emotion in Angela's voice. "Thanks, Sweetie."

She continued on. "But there's something else, isn't there?" She walked back and forth along the foot of the bed. The covers were still messy and Christine was bound to wake up any minute.

Having the job – and schedule – that they did, the duo was used to waking up at seven, six, maybe five in the morning. Depending on the case and/or Brennan's crazy breakthrough's in the middle of the night. But it was a Saturday, which meant no work. Also, it was _six thirty_ on a Saturday. Crime Fighter and Anthropologist were woken up at 6:13 by the distressed (literal) call from the Artist, who was up at all hours of the night (morning?) watching the news.

So here Brennan was now, pacing slowly back and forth, glancing at the connecting bathroom from their room. Booth left the door open a crack, allowing her to glimpse the movement of a hand or arm once in a while as he shaved and gelled his hair.

She continued. "You sound as though there is something more that's troubling you, other than the alleged attack on the President."

Angela scoffed. "Well, I'm then assuming you haven't heard about the tsunami on out coast yet." On her end, she switched the phone to fit between her shoulder and cheek, pouring a cup of coffee and adding the creamer. Upstairs she heard Hodgins talking to Michael.

"Sandy, I think they named it. They say a Roller Coaster was obliterated and Jersey Shore is down," she smirked at her coming remark. "Guess that means no trouble for the cops for a while."

"What? There was a tsunami? How big was it?" Brennan asked, seemingly glazed over the fact that it had demolished a Roller Coaster. She slid open the bathroom door, leaning against the frame as Booth continued the work of gelling his hair. He regarded her briefly at her entrance and mention of a tsunami before returning his attention to the mirror.

Angela recalled the information, squinting her eyes as the coffee sharpened her memory. "Started in the Bahamas or Cuba or something. Only twenty-two deaths or so, but still. Went almost all the way up to Vermont. Was a doozie."

Brennan's face turned, her eyes on the floor like they always were when she was thinking. Taking in the information, forming a picture of what she might see if she were to look it up, which it what she'd probably do later to see for herself. "That's awful. Do you know what they're planning on doing about it?"

At her change in voice, Booth looked over at her. "What, what's up?"

Brennan held up a finger, telling him to wait.

"Well it was a tsunami, Brennan. All they _can_ do for now is evacuate people as far away as possible from any danger zones." With that said, Hodgins came in, carrying Michael on his hip. Angela greeted him with a, "Morning, Babe," and a kiss on the cheek before moving to the dining table to sit. "I mean, who knows how long it will take to clean up. With our luck lately, right as we start cleaning up another one will hit."

"Don't say that," Brennan said, so brokenly that it affected both her friend on the other line and her partner, who really looked at her seriously now. "If this country wasn't so in debt right now, we'd be more prepared for these types of situations; we'd have money put away. Enough for immediate repairs and food.

"Bones, what about a tsunami?" Booth dried his hands on a towel, setting it down and leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest.

"Oh, Sweetie," Angela's voice was admiring – adoring, in a way. "Don't get so worked up over it. These things happen. They always get worked out in the end, one way or another.

Brennan held out a hand, palm up as if her friend were right in front of her and she was relaying the facts to her directly. "Yes, but through struggle and increased stress on everyone. On the outside, everything is fine, but on the inside. . .we owe more than we did before. It's like," she sighed. "It's like the world is seeing how much we can take."

"We can take a lot, Bones." Booth said. She found it amazing that though he wasn't fully filled in on what they were talking about, he had the ability to say something so heartfelt and true. She gave him a small smile of gratitude, and though it was small it lit up her eyes.

Angela smiled knowingly. "Well, you've got buckets of money, don't you? Why not donate some of that into helping out over there? They have programs for that, you know."

The anthropologist seemed to brighten at this, taking some of her weight off the doorframe and standing up a little straighter. "That's true. I do have a lot in the bank that I'm not allowed to use." At this she looked specifically at her partner. He raised his eyebrows, as if daring her to go back on her promise to only pay her share of the mortgage and groceries that they agreed on. "I've made multiple accounts which I've taken to donating to Animal Causes and Charities and such. It would be exciting to invest in something new."

"Wait, who says you can't spend your money?" Angela asked with a laugh, unbelieving that Brennan would listen to anyone about her money affairs, let alone agree to whatever compromise they laid out. Well, booth might- Oh. She did a mental face-palm. Not she got it. Damn. If there was ever one way to understand, or prove, just how much Brennan loved that man, it was _that fact_ right there. She'd be willing to compromise a money deal with him. _Her_ money. The thing she was so laid back about and used unintentionally to intimidate people. "Ah. Booth." That little realization made her lean back in her chair, head lolled back.

"Sweetie," she continued, deciding to drop their earlier conversation. "Is Booth there right now?"

_That_ caught her off guard. She shifted her feet. "Yes, why?"

"Just give him the phone for a sec; just real quick."

Over the line she heard, "Angela wants to speak with you."

The sudden change in Angela's tone and topic of conversation thoroughly confused her, but she did as her friend asked, grabbing her brush off the counter and running it through her hair.

"Hey, Ange," Booth greeted, the slightest hint of a question in his tone.

"Hey, Mister, you got Brennan to agree on keeping her stash untouched?"

"Yeah, over a year ago. Why's that so important?"

That question – the way he said it – was so _Booth_. It was _so_ Booth. He really didn't get what he'd accomplished, did he?

"You know, she loves you." Angela said matter-of-factly.

He pushed his fingers to his eyes and sighed. Why was she doing this to him so early in the morning? Here he thought this woman couldn't function unless she got her eight hours of shut-eye in. Turns out she could work just fine on six, or however many she'd gotten before she decided to call them up so early. "What's your point, Angela?"

"You know she wouldn't agree to it unless she was sure about you. It wasn't just the pregnancy." Continuing as if he hadn't even spoken. _So_ Angela.

Booth glanced over at his partner, currently standing where he'd been in front of the mirror and getting gently at the knots she'd acquired during sleep. She seemed deep in thought as she tackled her brown hair, maybe about whatever that tsunami thing was about, but her look remained thoughtful. He smiled as he took in her 'morning look'.

Remembering the phone, he said goodbye and pressed the touch-screen's 'End' button.

"Hey," he snaked his arms around her from behind, kissing the side of her head then giving her a chaste kiss when she turned her face toward him. He rested his cheek next to her temple, looking at their reflection in the mirror. She still brushed gingerly through her hair. "I suppose a _proper_ good morning id doable now that Angela is gone."

Brennan laughed. "You know she'll call again, Booth."

"You know, you pick the oddest people to be friends with."

"All of my friends are people I work with," she met his eyes in the mirror. "Including you. I think that's better than nothing. And they're your friends too Booth."

He covered her eyes, feigning annoyance at her.

She laughed and pulled his hands away, tossing a look at his reflection. "Not funny."

"Is that so."

"Yes."

"Then how come I laughed just then, huh?"

"You're teasing."

"No, I don't think so." Booth pretended. He poked her side, trying to annoy her, regardless as to if it came back to bite him in the ass later.

"I don't know what else you'd call it." She resumed the knot untangling.

"Tempting a reaction that is enjoyable to me and will inevitably end in you chasing me around the house."

"I believe you would classify that reaction as annoyance, which is caused by teasing."

"Oh, well then that's what I'm doing."

"Ugh," she laid her hands on the counter, leaning on her arms over the sink. "Pourquoi ai-je reçu un tel partenaire ennuyeux?"

"On we, what?"

Brennan flicked her head up to meet his eyes in the mirror. "Why do I have such an annoying partner." She translated.

"You think I'm annoying?" He pretended to be hurt.

Her face softened. "Yes," she set the brush back on the counter and turned to face him. His hands came to lean on the edge behind her, trapping her between the counter and him. "And sweet, and handsome, brave, and dorky, funny. . ."

"You know all you're doing is bumping my ego, right? Think of me as a ten year old." He charm smiled her, leaning closer.

". . .And courageous, strong, hard-working, nice, and excellent father and-"

"And?"

She shrugged. "And very romantic."

"I think we've had this conversation before." He joked, kissing her. "Damn straight about handsome, too, by the way."

She laughed. He kissed her again, longer this time until-

"She's awake," Brennan mumbled, assuming it was 'his turn' for baby retrieval. Not that she truly cared, it was a game they'd devised soon after Christine was born.

"It's hardly seven," Booth hung his head in defeat.

"She heard us moving around, she's grown accustomed to our routine of waking up early; she does this every weekend you should be used to it by now." She reasoned with him, raising an eyebrow in question.

He sighed, pecking her lips before heading down the hallway. "You'd assume."

* * *

**Don't you love how Angela can turn on a dime in conversation? Re-watching episodes when she does that always makes me laugh.**

**That bit about archaeologists with snakes, I have no idea if that's true or not, but my mom told me a story one time of meeting an actual archaeologist who had a pet snake. Whole story about the President meeting up with the archaeologist was totally made up. This story was not meant to offend any possible archaeologists reading this Fic.**

**P.S: Is it illegal to put the President in danger in a made up story? If so, I'll see you guys in over the border in Canada. OMG, why am I freaking out about this?**

**I translate French as best I can, I know how to make sentences pretty well, but I don't know how to do the accents and things so I go to Google translate. **


	27. The Fight That Wasn't

Heeeey! Been a long week, but here's a surprise update! I'm mad at school and life and just ughhh, so I'm being rebellious and writing ya'll a lovely little chapter.

_Also_, IN OTHER NEWS HOW ABOUT THOSE WOMAN IN WHITE PHOTOS JOANNA AND TROLLEANAZ HAVE POSTED, HUH!? IS NO ONE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS!? TUMBLR ANYBODY!? (Speaking of which ya'll should check out my Fangirling on there it's super crazy, I'm probably _way_ too in to this Fandom. *psh!* As if.)

Disclaimer: A wise person (probably some old guy, I don't even know this is just what people say) once said that you can't lose what you never had. This _might_ be true if I wasn't so damn sure that I'd once owned Bones. I'm almost certain of this, guys. I feel it.

The Fight That Wasn't

Takes place any time between 8x10 and 8x15

Angela and Cam stood in front of Brennan's desk, each going through x amount of papers. They sorted through and placed the papers in the necessary corresponding manila folder. They worked quietly, making comments now and again. Until their work was suddenly interrupted.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Booth, _no_!"

"Brennan, _yes_!"

Artist and Pathologist exchanged amused looks before turning around at the dup, who had – during their entrance to the office – marched themselves to the coffee table. Brennan had set down her bag and armful of papers on the coffee table and turned to face her partner. Standing up to her full height which came to just about eye-level with him.

"No."

"Yes."

"_No_."

"Yes! Please Bones, yes!"

"No, Booth." She continued in her stern way; she wasn't about to back down.

"Yes."

"No."

"_Yes_."

"Absolutely not, no."

"Please, would you just-"

"Hey!" Angela cut in. Both acknowledged that she was there, along with Cam, and turned to look at her.

"What is going on here?" Cam asked, hands on her hips. They weren't fighting. It was more of a position of one of them begging for a toy that the other said they couldn't have. Like a child and their mom.

Booth turned his entire body to them, now, clearing his throat and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It's nothing." He said.

"Doesn't look like nothing to me," the artist laughed, sharing her smirk with Cam and crossing her arms over her chest, papers in her hands forgotten. "Trouble in paradise?"

Brennan gave a short laugh. "Hardly." She remarked, bending to retrieve her own papers from her bag.

"Just a squabble." Booth said lamely, trying to divert attention from the previous discussion.

"Riiight. A lover's squabble." Cam observed. "What about?"

"Look it's nothing, alright? Nothing." He shrugged it off, slowly walking away from his partner to put distance between them in hopes that that would get the other two women off his back.

Brennan turned from her bag and stood up again, quickly replying as if he hadn't spoken. "Booth wants a dog." He gave her an unbelieving 'really, Bones?' look, to which she returned with her own bratty smirk; the corner of her mouth upturned as she officially got the other two involved, which was _exactly_ what Booth _didn't_ want. She rounded her desk to her chair and set the papers down in front of the monitor. "And I'm saying no."

"And I'm saying yes! But see, she's so damned _stubborn_." He made a gesture at her, as if gripping her head between his hands. She only smiled at him.

"But Sweetie I thought you wanted a dog." Angela laughed, unbelieving of what she was hearing and knowing from past conversation that her friend did, indeed, want a dog.

"I do. But I don't want to get one _now_. Now when Christine is so young." She shrugged, ignoring Booth's gestures. "In a few years."

"If you're worried about safety, Dr. Brennan," Cam chimed in. "there are plenty of dogs out there that are bred for their good-natured ways and being, for lack of a better word, Godly in their behavior. They're Saint good."

"Oh no, it's not _that_ that she's worried about," Booth hollered. "Tell 'em, Bones." He leaned his hands on the back of one of the office chairs, smiling at her with fake sweetness.

"Fine." The anthropologist turned to her friends as they continued their work on the papers. "I want Christine to remember the dog enough and have good memories of him or her when she was little, but not to be so young to where she has absolutely no memory. I myself never grew up with a dog, only one that was stuffed, so I never had the experience. If we get her a dog _now_, by the time she is nine or ten, the dog will be about the same age and will be on the verge of becoming too old to play with."

"See, isn't that crazy?"

"Don't call me crazy, Booth."

"I wasn't, just that your _idea_ was crazy."

"It's not an idea, it's what I honestly think."

"It's not like you, is all I'm saying."

"I've told you this before. You are just angry this time around and are seeing things a little differently."

"No, what you said is that having a dog helps build healthy immune systems and is great for social development. You said it yourself, having a dog would benefit Christine!"

"It would, and I stand by that argument. But I didn't say we would get one _now_." She rested her weight on her hands as she leaned over her desk at him, brown hair framing her face.

"Oh really, because the way you were talking about it, it sounded a whole lot like getting one now was a great idea to you."

"Well I am sorry if you interpreted my usual fact relaying for wanting to jump on it right that very moment. I'll be sure to be clearer when communicating form now on."

"What? This isn't about being 'clearer' in communication, this is about getting a dog for our _daughter_, our family, Bones. Our _home_. Whether or not you were being clear, I'm just wondering if you even want a dog at all."

The two extras to the party exchanged glances again, hiding their full-blown smiles by showing small ones. Angela had to suppress the urge to scream that they should just kiss and make up already.

If they were actually fighting, then maybe she'd be worried. But the fact was that what they were doing now wasn't even really fighting. It was exactly as Booth had described it, squabbling. The conversation, for the time being, was of little importance. It was banter, but it was also a discussion, as well as them just being Booth and Brennan. It was _definitely_ banter. Although it was a _real_ situation they were dealing with, it would resolve itself in the end.

"Okay you two. Lower your voices," Cam smirked down at the papers in her hands. Angela nudged her. "I'm sure the last thing you want is people looking at you as they walk by."

"No, Cam, that's what _you_ don't want," Angela laughed, handing her boss a paper for her pile.

"Hey, excuse me for being a little selfish, but I wanted to do this in your office in the first place."

"Well, Bren has papers we need. This is a lot easier, believe me." Angela looked up to see the duo eyeing each other. "Sweetie?" Nothing. "Bren." Again, silence. "Earth to Temperance, we need those papers."

"If you're through with them, that is." Cam added.

Brennan blinked then sighed, looking down through the stack of papers she had. "Here," she handed them to Cam.

Angela looked over at Booth, who was still eyeing Brennan. She grinned down at her work. "Maybe you ought to cool, huh, Hot Stuff?"

He scoffed. "Maybe you can ask her then. She was the one talking wistfully about how great it would be to have a dog."

"She's Brennan. I'm sure she's got other things regarding the subject on her mind that she's not telling you."

"I'm right here, you know." The anthropologist said from her position in her chair. She had a hand on the mouse and the other holding her chin, trying to ignore them both.

"I know," Angela said smugly. "And it's good for you to be hearing this."

"Yeah Bones. _Is_ there something else?" Booth walked up next to Angela, looking down at his partner. He smirked, knowing from the way she quickly flicked her eyes at him that there was.

"Cam, where are the papers from the file A350? I just got an E-mail from the Director upstairs and he needs them." She ignored him. Booth just laughed.

"Uhh," the pathologist quickly looked at one of the papers from her current stack. "According to this, you should have them."

"Just gonna ignore me, Bones?"

Brennan sighed and got up from her chair. "I've got to work, Booth." She went around her desk and gave him a quick kiss. Then she turned to the coffee table for her bag.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He said, walking out with a little less of the cocky air about him that he liked.

Brennan went back to her desk, appropriate files in hand, and turned to her keyboard, typing with fleeting fingers to the Director.

"So is there another reason?" Cam asked, paper clipping a set of documents.

Angela laughed. "Yeah, Sweetie, he looked kinda bummed."

Brennan held back a smile. She always liked it how things worked in their little group of friends, the way they always pressed for info. "Drop it, you two. I'll be back from the Directors' in five minutes."

"We'll take that as a yes!" Angela hollered as her friend left.

"Booth and Brennan." Cam rolled her eyes at Angela, as if that explained everything.

* * *

**I loved writing this. I know I made it seem like an actual fight, because it was mostly dialogue, but in my head it was banter all the way, I promise. **

**And hey, I realize my writing has been extremely bad lately. I really have no excuse for that, it just has been. I don't exactly write everything word-for-word from my phone; I change up sentences and whatnot to make it sound and/or flow better. So sometimes things get chopped up and, let's face it, not everybody has a gift for writing. I'll raise my glass to that!**

**Thank you all for noticing my mistakes, I really don't get mad if you review and all it says is that something in one of the stories was wrong. And if you want to give me your two cents on how I'm running this show, send in something. I'm not taking requests for stories because I have a flood of stories that have yet to be published in the first place. Once I get them all out there in the world, and if I'm still motivated to do this, I'll take some requests. **** Maybe even start up a whole different Multi-Chapter Fic, start off fresh.**

**Stay beautacious and thanks for reading!**


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